


In the Place to Be

by ABitNotGood (EggsyUnwin)



Series: The Stars Fight Against Us [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Meetings, M/M, Politics, Tenuous knowledge of american political system, so many musical references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-15 10:06:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 27,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5781988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EggsyUnwin/pseuds/ABitNotGood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What do you do when your ex is about to walk through the door? </p><p>Simple, you ask the cute guy in the corner to go along with your plan.</p><p>Alternatively: Alexander Hamilton decided to take a break, and John Laurens was in the right place to be without even realising it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Alex ducked into the coffee shop as quickly as possible to avoid the cold - and the cameras. The press were more of a constant nuisance now but it was better to be safe when he was coming up on twenty-five hours without sleep and hadn’t looked in a mirror in nearly as many. Fortunately, that meant it was still the early morning for most people. The frost and the early hour had driven most people away so that the queue was short, but still not an appealing prospect.

The things he did for caffeine.

The coffee shop also had the benefit of wide glass windows with a good view of the street for people watching.

Alex let his eyes glaze over as he waited for his order, staring absently out of the window down the street he’d just come from. Until a familiar figure caught his eye—no, two familiar figures, both of them walking towards the café with a little too much purpose. The height difference was almost comically obvious at this distance. 

Alex swore internally—or perhaps out loud, because the man at the table closest to him turned around and frowned.

The man was holding a book in one hand, coffee in the other, and the frown was doing brilliant things for the crease between his eyebrows.

Alex suddenly had a disastrously good idea that he was eighty-five percent sure would backfire terrible. He tried to remind himself that he was a serious politician and not a nineteen year old college student. But then he looked back at the guy and—

“Hi,” he said, suddenly stepping too close to the man and talking quickly, "I’m sorry to do this, but I’m Alexander Hamilton and could you pretend to be my boyfriend?"

The man in front of him looked shell-shocked. He put down his coffee carefully, and then his book.

“I’m sorry,” and oh—his voice was lovely, but now was really not the time, and then he was speaking again and—“do I know you?”

“No,” Alex said, “but it would be great if you could pretend otherwise for a few minutes.” Alex tried to change his smile so he looked a little less like a lunatic.

The other man’s expression however didn’t change.

“Our relationship’s escalated rather quickly,” the man pointed out.

“Sorry about that, but—shit. Just…my ex is about to come around the corner. He’s—well, dick doesn’t really cover it adequately, and I don’t want to face this single.”

“Maybe you should have thought about that more than a few seconds before he appeared?”

“I didn’t exactly—” Alex felt himself going a little red, but then he saw  Jefferson coming around the corner and decided it was better to give up than be caught in the act. “You know what, it doesn’t matter anymore. At least don’t tell anyone I asked you. Don’t let him know—oh, hey, James, Thomas. Fancy seeing you two here.”

“Who’s this?” Jefferson walked straight up to them, getting a little too close for Alex’s comfort, towering above him. James Madison was standing next to him looking a little confused and crestfallen.

“What? Oh, this is—”

“I’m John, Alex’s boyfriend. A better question might be who’re you?”

“You didn’t mention a boyfriend,” James pursed his lips and turned to Alex, glaring slightly.

Jefferson moved to step slightly in front of his shorter friend, but James pushed him back lightly. Alex decided it would’ve been adorable if it were a little less creepy.

“Well,” the man—John, if he was telling the truth, although, it was more than likely it was a fake name at this stage—”I think you might’ve lost your right to that sort of information a while back.”

“What’d you say just to him?” Jefferson asked, turning to face John fully.

“I said I think he’s lost the right to that information, and you have too, buddy.”

John pushed his chair back and he stood up, positioning him between Alex and Jefferson. And Alex chose this moment to notice a few things all at once that made him forget exactly what John has just said.

John was tall—almost as tall as Jefferson—and dark, and handsome. Alex was either extremely lucky or already damned.

Alex decided quite quickly that he didn’t care if the man’s name wasn’t John: he didn’t care if his name was Quincey. He was already quite madly in love with this guy. And anyone who could make Thomas Jefferson look that pissed that quickly was quite clearly his soulmate.

Jefferson huffed, raised an eyebrow at John and said, “Well is that so,” then took James's arm and walked out of the coffee shop without ordering.

“You just called Thomas Jefferson buddy. I think I hate everyone in this state except you right now.”

John's grin lasted a second before suddenly dropping off his face. “Wait—was that Thomas Jefferson?”

John’s eyes had gone wide and Alex tried to not be annoyed.

“You recognize Jefferson but not me?”

“And that means that was, James…”

“Senator James Madison, R-VA, yes.”

“Wait—you’re Alexander Hamilton. As in, President Washington’s Hamilton?”

“Yep,” he agreed flippantly, bitting back his annoyance at the wording.

“You’re a sen—congr—politician?” John decided on.

“Cabinet member, actually,” Alex grinned.

John’s eyes widened.

“I feel like I should bow or something.”

“Not a monarchy, John."

Alex tried to not feel a little wave of satisfaction though. It was still early January and they hadn’t even reached the official inauguration yet. It was still satisfying to watch peoples’ reactions as he said the title.

Of course, he would’ve preferred State, but four years was a long time to change things.

“Shouldn’t you be—” John waved his hand vaguely in front of him and looked a little worriedly out of the window at Jefferson’s retreating figure.

“Not be fake dating cute guys in coffee shops? Or not be admitting to past relationships with Republican Senators?”

John bit back what Alex hoped had been a laugh and looked around a little worriedly to check no one was paying them too much attention. Again, Alex was grateful for the combination of weather and the early hour.

“Not hitting on anyone in coffee shops?” John supplied.

Alex ignored John’s fugitive looks around the café and sat down. He put his coffee down and leaned forwards so he could drop his voice a little.

“If it takes starting a rumor to meet you then it will have been worth it, Mr…?”

“Laurens. John Laurens.”

“No relation to the piece of scum South Carolina senator I hope?” he laughed.

“Yes, actually,” John said, apologetically

“Ah, I see—”

“I’m his son.”

“Oh,” Alex leaned back, took a sip of his coffee, and then stared at John’s frozen, beautiful, and ruefully apologetic face. “Oh shit.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex remembers he has an actual job. John remembers he needs to get one.

Following the increasingly frantic texts from Washington’s office, Alex headed towards the White House rather than the Treasury Building. The Chief of Staff had texted him three times already. The world was probably ending. 

He opted to walk with his head down rather than draw attention by calling a car service. He didn't want to face the veiled judgement of the driver seeing his bedraggled state. He was trying to pass a bill right now, it required all-nighters and good quality coffee - anyone who didn’t understand that wasn’t worth the time today.

Despite all this, on the walk to the White House Alex tried not to look too proud of himself.

Coffee Shop John Laurens had seemed—well, nice was not the word he was looking for.

It was so _simple_ talking to John—John who hadn’t judged his state of array once, John who had told James Madison they were dating, John whose father, Henry Laurens, Alex had publicly shouted down in a debate only last summer.

Even after backing them into a conversational corner, they managed to escape the discussion landmines easier that he’d expected.

“Are you a…?” Alex had hesitated over the question, but it had to be asked.

There were things that were odd, but still classed as socially acceptable—like asking someone to fake date you before your first cup of coffee. And then there were things that were just plain rude—like asking if said fake-boyfriend followed his father’s politics and was a notoriously right-wing Republican.

Alex decided to leave the sentence unfinished. He didn’t want to offend John after all.

“I’m not technically a politician,” John smiled and thus reminded Alex of two of the dimple shaped reasons why he didn’t want to offend John. “Not sure I’d be very good at it. More of an...activist? I didn't move to DC for the views.”

“If you’re about to start a rally I should probably inform someone, but tell me what it’s for and I might let you off. f you want help making some real change, I’m willing to bypass regulations. I’m not officially in power for another fourteen days I can probably get away with more now than I’ll be able to any other time. I.”

John laughed “No, not today. I’m job hunting of sorts.”

“Oh,” Alex tried to hide his disappointment.

John raised his eyebrows, “You’re actually disappointed aren’t you? Sorry, maybe another day. Activism doesn’t pay the bills.”

“Yeah, I learned that.”

It was a simple comment and Alex tried to not sound snide whilst delivering it; he also tried to not think of how many donors Senator Henry Laurens had had in the last election, even when his vast personal fortune would have covered the costs. Alex tried to forget his cynicism.

“Did you ever try it?” John asked, lightly. “The less politically official route?”

Alex laughed. “Yeah, don’t know if you heard all the way down in South Carolina,”—did John just flinch? No, he must’ve imagined it—“I didn’t get into Congress the first time I tried back in New York, apparently I was too abrasive. Basically means controversial and there were a few too many people I’d pissed off in the city as a whole. It was a minor step back. I needed to move forward quickly, obviously, so I worked for Washington on the campaign trail—and don’t get me wrong, our President elect is the best person for the job right now and I'm gonna warn you in advance to not to talk any shit about him. I became his speech writer, then deputy Chief of Staff, yadda yadda. He got voted in back in November and asked me to join the cabinet as Secretary of the Treasury.”

He said all of this quickly without pausing for breath, but somehow still drinking his now-collected coffee.

John was sat across from him a little wide eyed.

Alex’s phone chimed in his pocked, he pulled it out, not breaking eye contact with John. When he saw the message from Nathanial Greene - the current Chief of Staff to the President -  he swore.

“I actually have to get back to the office, I’m sorry, this is an—I err—" He paused, took a deep breath, then started again: "Thank you for doing that with Madison and Jefferson, I know I forced you into an ultimatum far too soon there, and it was kind of you not to hit me—”

“No worries, don't be sorry,” John stood up with him. “It’s was…nice talking to you.”

Alex laughed. “You’re possibly the first person to ever say that, John Laurens.”

John looked at him pointedly. When Alex didn't move, John rolled his eyes and pulled out a pen from his pocket. "This is the point when I’d usually ask for your number, but according to two eminent politicians I’m already you’re boyfriend, so…” John let his words slip away as he jotted down his number on the back of his receipt and handed it to Alex. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”

“Yes, I’m sure I’ll see you, if not, I can find you. If, err—I mean, if that’s what you want—”

“No. Yes, I mean, yes,” John said. “Yes, it’d be…nice.”

“Great. I sort of wish I didn’t have an actual job to go to now.”

“Go, change the world. I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”

“You sound pretty sure,” Alex said.

“I have a feeling,” John grinned. “I have to head off anyway. Go on, Secretary Hamilton, the country’s waiting.”

 

* * *

 

“Secretary Hammie, sir,” Robert Harrison poked his head around the door to Alex’s office, his lip twitching at his own wit.

“You shouldn’t mock Members of the Cabinet, you know,” Alex said.

“The President wants a meeting with you as soon as you’re ready. He’s got the candidates for the new Deputy Communications role coming in today. Wouldn’t usually interrupt but it was you’re job, I think he’d like your input.”

“Couldn’t that wait a few weeks? We’re in the middle of the inauguration work.”

Harrison shrugged. “We still need speeches. I'm just the messenger. Are you scared someone will do your job better than you did?”

“You wish,” Alex laughed. “No one does my job better than me. Not even you.”

“It’s that kind of pride that makes you hard to be friends with.”

Alex rolled his eye and tried to look affronted but Harrison just smiled. Robert Harrison met Washington back when he was in the US Army and Harrison was inimitably efficient. Alex had suggested Harrison to take over his role when he left. 

“I’m almost done with this. I’ll be there in five.”

“I’ll tell George you’re on your way,” Harrison slipped quickly out of the room.

“Don’t call him George!” Alex shouted out of the open door at his retreating figure. A few people turned around.

“You said it not me!” Harrison shouted back as he disappeared round the bottom of the corridor.

“Should we really be shouting in the office this soon after election, boys?”

Alex turned around quickly at the sound of that voice.

Angelica Schuyler was standing behind him, with one eyebrow raised. She put him to shame with his appearance most days, but today the discrepancy between her perfectly put together suit and his crumbled excuse for one was palpable.

“Ms Secretary of State…hi.”

She took a deep breath.

“Hi, Alexander. I hope you’re planning on changing before you go to see the leader of the free world. I’m sure your secretary keeps suits in the office for occasions like this. He doesn’t need to have worked for you for long to know that.”

“I have a secretary?”

“I have no idea why Washington choose you,” she smiled through the words, and winked at him.

“I have no idea why he didn’t choose me for Secretary of State,” he corrected. “Although, I see he gave that role to the better person.”

“That he did,” she grinned. “Now, I'm here to do actual work, and you need to get changed and go and help the President find a new you so stop smiling, and move.”

“President elect,” he corrected. “And why're you talking to me if you have so much work to do?"

“I just wanted to see your face of course,” she breezed past him, leaving the room. “Oh, and I wanted to see if what Jefferson said was true—but that can wait till you’re meeting’s done.”

She closed the door on his shout of, “What?”

He pulled the receipt from his pocked and quickly texted what he hoped was John’s real number:

_To John:  
_

_Possible damage control needed. Text back._

Alex steadied his breathing as he hit send.

Damage control. He didn’t know all the variables and shouldn't jump to conclusions. There was no time to worry. John would be reasonable about it. 

Alex got changed, looked briefly in a mirror, cringed, and retied his hair. Angelica was nowhere to be seen outside. The President's secretary smiled at him only a little sympathetically as he walked past and he hoped that meant he looked a bit less shit.

He knocked on the Oval Office’s door and was shown inside.

“Mr President elect, you wanted to see me?”

“Alexander, please come in. This is one of the candidates for the communication role.”

Alex followed Washington’s gesture and saw the back of a man's head, sat in the chair opposite Washington.

“Have you met Mr Laurens?”

John Laurens turned around and looked at Alex, with the most fake look of surprise Alex had ever seen. There was a slight apology in his smile, but a glint in his eye that made Alex suddenly wish they weren’t in the room with the newly elected President of the United States.

“Yes, sir,” Alex answered, slowly, allowing himself a small smile to match John’s.

“Hello, Secretary Hamilton." John Laurens turned back to Washington, and explained: "We keep meeting.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Laurens was having a bit of a day of it.

John watched Alex leave the coffee shop and wondered what had happened with the last half an hour of his life.

Today was an important day, he’d known that from the moment he woke up. However, it was supposed to be important due to his interview for a role on President Washington's personal staff, not due to announcing to two prominent Republicans that he was dating the US Secretary of the Treasury.

John was at a loss, so he did the only reasonable thing. He texted Lafayette.

 _To Lafayette:_  
_I’ve screwed up_

 _From Lafayette:_  
_How so mon ami?_

 _To Lafayette:_  
_Just wondering - do you have to announce in interviews if you’re fake dating any of your new boss' employees?_

_[incoming call from Lafayette]_

John laughed once as he left the coffee shop. He wasn’t lying when he told Alex—Secretary Hamilton, he corrected internally, no need to let himself get too carried away in the dream of familiarity—that he needed to get a move on.

“Hi Laf,” he said as he hailed a taxi. “Any words of wisdom?”

“It is not as bad as you made it sound, no?”

“However bad you’re thinking, triple it and you might get close.”

“ _Mon dieu_ , what did you do John?”

“Believe it or not, this one wasn’t my fault.”

“May I ask who it is you are “fake dating”?”

John smiled gratefully as he climbed into the still stopping taxi. “Alexander Hamilton,” he said to Lafayette, and “the White House, please” to the driver who simply raised a disbelieving eyebrow before pulling away.

John put the phone back to his ear only to be met with Lafayette’s laughter. “Stop laughing, this is serious. I called because I thought you could help, not mock my plight.”

“Explain one more time how this was not your fault, _s’il vous plait_?”

“I was minding my own business and suddenly this guy was asking me to be his fake boyfriend and he was adorable and flustered and really what do you say in that situation?”

“I assume one would simply explain that, no, they could not become involved in such a deceit, and that it was rather assumptive to think that you were available or even interested in them in the first instance?”

“Laf, I don't think you understand how cute he was.”

“I’m assuming you did not say no?”

“His ex-boyfriend walked in. It would’ve been rude not to go along with it, right? And his ex and his friend were such dicks, and looked like so rich and pompous and—don’t get at me, I know I’m a hypocrite, I’m growing out of it. But you know my opinions on entitled elitists and how I get sometimes…”

“We are lucky you did not punch them, _oui_. Wait—you did not punch them, did you John?”

“No! No, but I did tell them I was Alex’s boyfriend. How was I supposed to know he was the Treasury Secretary?”

And then Lafayette was laughing again.

“Seriously not helping.”

OK, maybe he should keep it down. The cab driver was definitely giving him weird looks by this point. Maybe he wasn’t used to people visiting the White House calling Cabinet members adorable. Shit.

 _Calm down,_ he thought. He had one of the most important interviews of his—well, at least of this month—in a few minutes. An interview that just so happened to be with the fucking President.

“I’m gonna have to call you back, I’ll let you know how badly it goes.”

“ _Bonne chance._ Try and not propose to any government officials whilst you are there. And remember to send Georges my love.”

John hung up quickly, with a mumbled agreement to the last part. Even after ten years of friendship, Lafayette was too much of an enigma to ever know if he was truly joking about knowing the President. His family and name did come with some impressive connections.

John managed to get into the White House with minimal complications, terrified at every step that someone would grab his arm and tell him he didn't belong here. For one of the few times in his life, he channeled some of the shit his father used to spew—how to get through a room of people more important that you: walk like you were already their equal and were entitled to be there.

As soon as he introduced himself, peoples’ eyes widened. John’s stomach churned at the thought that he was actually grateful for his family name, even if just for a second there.

The whole building was ridiculously busy, no one stopping to appreciate the grandeur or importance and he was washed along in the crowd of people. Before he could think, he was being ushered into the interview room and, oh—

He knew this room. From television.

The Oval Office was bigger in real life.

And that was the actual President leaning against the desk and staring at him inscrutably.

“Mr President, sir. it’s an absolute honor. I…I’m very glad you’re taking the time to interview me. I was unaware I'd have the honor of you conducting the interview personally. It's a surprise and it’s an—”

John shut up then and there for two reasons. The first: if he said honor for a third time in the same speech he might have to move to Alaska. And the second was that George Washington had opened his mouth and seemed intent on speaking.

What he said made John’s stomach churn again. His heart dropped a little as a few puzzle pieces feel into place.

“Mr Laurens, I’ll be honest, I was surprised to receive an application from you, mainly due to your family loyalties to the other party.”

That was why it was the President interviewing him. Hell, maybe that was the only reason he had an interview at all.

“My father, yes, of course.”

“Henry Laurens is undoubtedly proficient, but not someone whose son I would expect to work for me. Senator Laurens is a slightly divisive figure.”

“You’re allowed to say you hate him, sir, plenty of people have said plenty worse.”

“Certainly not. Your father is a respected politician regardless of his allegiances,” Washington said it in a tranquilly calm tone despite the clear undercurrent of warning.

John felt a blush rising on his neck and hoped it wouldn’t show. He was an adult; he could take thinly veiled criticism.

He forced himself to take a deep breath and not let any panic seep into his voice. He nearly jumped when he felt his phone suddenly vibrate in his pocket and cursed himself for not switching it off completely, but also thanked his past self for at least putting it on silent.

“Of course, sir,” he said finally. He met the President’s eyes and refused to look down. “I meant no disrespect.”

Washington said nothing, calmly looking at him as if he was reading John’s whole life story in his eyes. Finally he leaned back in his chair. “What does your father thing about you being here today, Mr Laurens? Did he have some influence on your choice of job? You must have many options coming from a background such as yours. ”

“Well, sir," John said, continuing in the vein of honesty, "I haven’t actually told him.”

John bit back the rest of what he wanted to say. Honestly? He was in awe of Washington’s ability to keep his composure and John could already see a world where he would do pretty much anything to defend Washington. But equally? The topic of his father was well trodden ground that he’d rather not revisit. And he didn’t want his father to know anything more about his life. And honestly? He didn’t have that many options job-wise right now due to his new recent estrangement from said father.

That was something else that John learned came from honesty: disownment.

Before Washington could say anything else, there was an insistent knock at the door. Without Washington speaking or calling anyone in, John heard the sound of the door opening presumptuously.

Washington looked to John and quickly said, “This is the man whose shoes I’m looking for someone to fill.”

This information could easily have been delivered in an “information you ought to know” tone of voice, but instead came out as more of a challenge. Another warning.

So, far the interview wasn’t going as glowingly as John had hoped.

And then he heard: “Mr President elect, you wanted to see me?”

John fought down the hysterical laughter that threatened to bubble over.

“Alexander, please come in. This is one of the candidates for the communication role.”

Alex’s voice sounded steadier than it had in the coffee shop but it was undoubtedly the same man. John would’ve known that voice anywhere, even without the President identifying him.

For some reason, that didn’t shock John half as much as it should.

Alex walked into John’s line of view and he looked—better. More put together. More awake. Perhaps the coffee had helped.

John saw Washington’s face change into a warmer smile, seemingly unintentionally, as Washington looked at Alex. John suddenly felt like an awkward intruder on a family affair.

“Have you met Mr Laurens?”

John turned around in the chair and looked at Alexander Hamilton, deciding to fake surprise to a certain degree. He pushed back his worries. Yes, he was intruding on Alex’s work place and hadn’t warned the other man, but he hardly owed Alex anything. They hadn’t exactly had a long acquaintance.

Also, Alex had unintentionally outed John to two Republicans who would undoubtedly let word trickle back to his father if they ever figured out his surname. Fortunately, John had done the outing of himself to his father already; otherwise, Alex would likely have been left floundering in front of Madison and Jefferson with John too worried to speak up.

So, when he met Alex’s wide eyed shock, he tried to force a little apology into his smile, but couldn’t really feel too guilty for this unexpected turn of events. He decided to play dumb, and pretend it was a happy coincidence for them to meet twice in the same morning.

“Yes, sir,” Alex answered finally, and—oh, Alex wasn’t mad. He was smiling. That was something John could definitely get used to.

“Hello, Secretary Hamilton. We keep meeting.”

Suddenly, a tall and intimidatingly pristine woman walked in behind Alex, the click of her heels the only warning of her arrival. John was starting to wonder if the President had more of an open door policy that he’d previously thought.

However, instead of turning to George Washington with any urgent missive, the woman turned her sharp eyes on John and he suddenly felt two inches tall.

If the President wasn’t able to intimidate him, he felt sure that this woman would be able to do the job.

“Secretary Schuyler,” Alex smirked, “to what do we owe the pleasure?”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” Schuyler said, her eyes not leaving John’s. “I apologize for intruding, Mr President elect. But I simply had to see the man who had captured Alexander Hamilton’s heart with my own eyes. I see what Jefferson meant, you are entirely out of Alex’s league.”

Schuyler looked at him and a little of the fire dropped out of her eyes, being replaced by something more distant that John couldn’t identify.

Alex floundered around a sound of denial.

George Washington, President elect of the United States of America, started choking on his coffee, looking at John with a new air of interest—and threat—in his eyes.

John decided, unequivocally, that this was the worst interview of his life.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The room where the awkward conversation happens. 
> 
> Ft. Alex trying to talk his way out, John wondering how this became his life, Angelica wishing she had popcorn for this, and Washington wishing he'd stayed in the Army.

John Laurens didn’t know much about Alexander Hamilton yet, but he knew enough to know that it was completely in character when Alex opened his mouth straight away and started trying to weave an explanation out of a great many words and very few facts.

Washington cut in, interrupting Alex with: "Is this true?"

"Jefferson's a liar,” Alex avoided the question. 

"Madison isn't,” Secretary Schuyler added. “You're the one who dated him."

"That was a political mistake."

"A political mistake?" said Schuyler. “Then what does that make this? A sensible thought out decision?”

John decided now was not the time to be offended by that. Alex looked like he wasn’t going to back down—in fact, the man looked like he’d never even heard of the possibility of backing down his entire life, and would laugh in the face of anyone who suggested such a thing.

John decided it was time to interrupt.

“Mr President, I’d like to thank you for your time and patience and apologize for disrupting your morning. I’d also like to apologize for bringing personal issues to the foreground of this interview. I see now I perhaps shouldn’t have come here today. It was a reaction against my father’s policies in part and I—” John realized how truthful he was being only at this point and wasn’t quite sure how to back out now so let himself finish. “I volunteered at a non for profit before moving to DC. I—I should be searching for something in that field of work again, not disturbing you all.”

"Now wait one minute, Mr Laurens,” said Washington, slowly. “You’ve only recently moved here? So you and Alexander do not…” he looked for the word.

John waited, flabbergasted. He was caught between begging to be given the job and running out now as quickly as he could. The latter option sounded better, except for the fact that it would involve leaving Alex. John noted idly that he shouldn’t be hinging his decisions on Alex already. He tried to focus on the fact that the President was talking again.

"Alexander, you and Mr Laurens don't… live together?"

"What? _No_."

"Seriously no."

“Too soon.”

“Completely,” Alex agreed.

Washington looked at the two of them oddly, shooting a quick frown in John's direction. The last thing John wanted was for the President to think he was mistreating his fake boyfriend. John gulped.

“This is…just beginning with us, and Alex is...” John spared a glance at Alex who gave him a reassuring nod in return. Whatever John said, it seemed Alex would go along with. John used what he knew so far and tried to extrapolate: “Alex’s schedule is a little too erratic to live with."

Alex beamed at him and John knew he must’ve guessed correctly.

Somehow, despite obviously having said something right, Washington was now looking slightly upset.

The President turned away from John for the first time and looked a little sadly towards Alex. Alex was talking again though before John could read any more into it.

“That's what Burr always said too. For the record, there’s a different between focused and erratic, which neither of you seem to understand but,” Alex looked over at Washington quickly then back to John, “we can talk about that later though.”

“Burr? Is this another ex?” John joked, lightly. “I’ve already had to face Senator Madison today, let’s keep the past political partners to a minimum.”

Alex’s face scrunched up and Schuyler let out a sharp laugh. Washington gripped his empty mug a little tighter.

“No, gross, he’s _Burr_.”

“Senator Burr,” Schuyler added.

Alex shook his head. “Seriously, John, never say that again. Anyway, you know Burr, tall, creepily constant smile, my college roommate, my nemesis—”

“I thought you said that was Jefferson,” John added.

Alex’s face broke out into a grin.

Schuyler saw the look on Alex’s face. She turned to John and take a step towards him before stopping herself. John got the strange feeling she had either been about to hug him or punch him but wasn’t sure which. Washington was watching Alex and looked a little less perturbed. John shot Schuyler a tentative smile. 

He didn’t understand much about the situation he was in, but he knew enough to realize that between Schuyler and the President, it was probably Schuyler he wanted on his side. Both of them seemed invested in Alex’s well-being beyond mere professional curiosity. Then again, perhaps that was hypercritical coming from someone who hadn’t known the guy this morning and had already announced their relationship with him to the President of the US. Alex inspired quick relationships.

John tried to remember details from Washington’s campaign, and anything else from the news about Alexander Hamilton. Washington was looking at Alex kindly now; the expression looked surreal and out of place given the Oval Office setting. Equally, John tried to remember anything about the Secretary of State: he knew her name was Angelica Schuyler—he’d seen the announcement of the cabinet placements not long ago. He knew she was the daughter of Senator Phillip Schuyler, the Senior Senators for New York. She was polished, efficient, and scarily competent.

He gulped and offered her another, warmer smile.

“We shouldn’t mock Mr Speaker,” Washington said. The warning was obviously due to John’s words but it was Alex who he stared at pointedly when he said it. Alex shrugged, nonplussed.

“Jefferson’s our opposition now, it’s not like we’ve got to be nice to him. Which raises the question—“ Alex turned to Schuyler. “Why were you talking to him Ang? He and James saw John and me less than an hour ago. Does he call you the second he gets gossip?”

“Some of us think it’s good to have friends on every side of the House, Alex. It’s generally easy to keep up with gossip _and_ actually get Bills passed that way.”

“We don’t need those motherf—” Alex looked over at Washington. “I mean, those—Republicans. We’re fine without them.”

“Actually,” Schuyler said. “Last time I checked the Republicans still had a majority in Congress. So, yes, we actually do need them. Please don’t politically isolate us by challenging two thirds of the House to a duel.”

“I’d never challenge anyone to a duel,” Alex said, looking offended.

John was inordinately relieved—for a second he’d seen an image of Alex taking on a room of gun wielding Republicans all at once. It was nice to know his fake-boyfriend at least had some self-preservation skills.

“I’ll publicly call them out on twitter instead,” Alex added. “And maybe start a smear campaign or two. Nothing too bad.”

“Stop talking,” said Washington. “Remember, I need plausible deniability. Let's move on. John,” he turned back around towards John.

“Yes, sir?”

“Do you have any intention of ending your relationship with Alexander in the immediate future?”

John felt his heart jump. He had a sudden moment of realization that this whole situation was ridiculous. He couldn't answer that. He didn’t have a _future_ in his relationship with Alex because he and Alex didn’t actually _have_ a relationship. This whole situation was a farce, and everyone would only hate him more when it all came out. And Alex would hate him more than any of them for ruining his political career. He could feel the tension that had suddenly descended on the room. He realized that if there was ever a time to reveal the odd rouse they found themselves in then this was the moment—

“No, sir, I have no intention of doing any such thing.”

Alex let out a long, loud, relieved breath. John turned to him quickly to check the other man wasn’t panicking. Instead, Alex simply looked grateful.

“Would that answer change if I said that it might impact any job application you were to make to the White House staff?”

“No, sir.” This time John answered without hesitation, without looking away from Alex, and without any clue as to what he was doing or getting himself into.

“Then, Mr Laurens, I hope you take it in the nicest way possible when I say that I think you would be appalling for this job.”

“I agree, completely, sir,” John held back a grin.

For some reason he felt ridiculously relieved. The decision was out of his hand. He didn't get the job. Yes, that was problematic in many ways. But Alex's career wasn't in jeopardy. And John didn't have to hold his breath through this conversation for much longer.

The only person who looked anything less than perfectly content with this outcome was Alex. Alex looked like he’d just run over someone’s dog.

“No, Mr President elect, please don’t do this—it’s completely my fault. I should’ve told you about John, and shit—I mean, er, dang—John is wonderful and would be perfect for the job.”

“Alexander,” Washington held up a hand to stop Alex’s torrent of words. “I understand it might be nice for you to have your boyfriend working here—”

“That’s not what I meant at all, sir,” Alex snapped. "I don't appreciate the insinuation. I work in a different building. I wouldn't intrude on his work here."

Washington sighed and continued as if no one had interrupted.

John was in a bit of a state of shock that someone _had_ interrupted the President. He looked to Angelica Schuyler for support in his surprise at Alex’s audacity to find her smirking at him. Once she caught him looking she winked then looked back towards the other two.

“I understand why you believe that John is wonderful, Alex, and I’m sure that Mr Laurens is a perfectly capable young man,” he looked to John and nodded once.

John nodded along uncertainly, wary of the praise.

“But, Alex, listen. John was not excelling at the interview even before you came into the room and lowered his chances.”

“That’s true,” John said. “It was going pretty badly from the beginning.”

“I’m glad you understand,” said Washington.

“Completely, sir. Thank you for your time.”

John heard Alex huff but refused to break eye contact.

“That settles it then,” Washington said and John started to nod again before the other man continued—“you can start next Monday.”

“I—pardon, sir?”

“I like people who recognize their faults, Mr Laurens.” Washington said. “And I’m impressed by people who aren’t easily deterred.”

President Washington stood up, and John hastened to do the same. The meeting was obviously over and John was even more frazzled and confused then when it began. The two cabinet ministers stood up—because, yes, John forced himself to remember that he was in a room with three of the most powerful people in the country. Angelica drew herself up to her full height, and even Alex stood up straighter.

“I believe this meeting is dismissed then. Thank you all.”

And just like that, it was over.

Angelica waited for John and Alex to walk out and closed the door behind them. She gave them both an odd look before shaking her head. “I hope you know what you’ve signed up for, Mr Laurens.”

“It’s just John.”

“Well, John, do look after my dearest Alexander for me. This has been fun but I’m now behind schedule.”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to catch up,” Alex said. “You found time to gossip with Jefferson after all.”

She gave Alex a scathing look before executing an inimitably perfect hair flip, turning on her heel and walking away.

There was a second of silence then - “I’d say, I’m sorry,” Alex started, “but that doesn’t really cover it, and I don’t really like apologizing.”

John considered asking what sort of person didn’t do apologies, let alone admitted it, when he turned around and saw Alex’s face.

Whatever he had been planning to say was swept away.

“No worries. I still got the job.”

“You got the job in spite of me.”

“I think I got the job because of who my father is.”

“I think you got the job _in spite_ of who your father is. Seriously John—" and oh, Alex was looking sincere again, and it was a little too much to take."You're pretty impressive,  _and_ you’re now officially, almost an employee of the White House staff. I’m actually considering being jealous. You get to do what I used to before bureaucracy was forced on me. Now I feel more answerable to the people—it’s nerve raking, John, they’re all so judgmental. You never know who you’re going to offend simply by stating facts about climate change or evolution. You’re lucky you’re mainly answerable to just Washington.”

“No big deal, just the President of the most powerful country in the free world.”

Alex beamed but corrected him still: “President elect."

John laughed and Alex continued to smile.

"But, seriously. You’re not mad at me?" Alex asked, his voice slowing as if he was choosing his words more carefully. "We can come clean about everything still if you like, or next time I speak to them I’ll do it, I’ll explain it’s all my fault. What would you like best? I’ll tell them if you want me to? You don't have to do anything.”

The earnest sincerity in Alex’s eyes was delighting and distracting.

“No, let’s—” John paused and looked around them.

Alex took John’s arm lightly and guided them away from the Oval Office, down the hall away from the main gatherings of people.

“Let’s not rush into anything right now. That’s how we got in this whole—” John didn’t want to say mess. Alex’s eyes had lit up when John started talking and he didn’t want to make the other man feel bad again or guilt him. “This tangle,” he finished, weakly. “How about we meet up and talk about it tonight?”

Alex nodded quickly—eagerly even. But of course he would be eager to sort this mess out, John reasoned, he was probably making Alex’s day a lot more complicated than it already was. Alex probably wanted a fast resolution.

“Meet at mine at eight?” John said, letting his words rise into a question at the end. “Probably less chance of being seen. I can text you the address.”

If Alex's smile dimmed slightly during John’s words then it was barely perceivable. His face lit up again at the end though.

“Of course," Alex said, his lips curving upwards into a smirk. "Eight o'clock. It’s a date.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These four characters all like to talk, all wanted to talk the most, and when I finished the chapter they all still wanted to talk more. (Burr would not be pleased) I apologize.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex is unintentionally manipulative and John is emotionally conflicted.
> 
> Everyday is a test of their inability to properly communicate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've changed it so it now says there will be 12 chapters.
> 
> Is this actually true? Yes? No? Who knows! (not me, not yet)

_To Lafayette:_  
_He’s coming round to mine._

 _From Lafeyette:_  
_Who?_

 _To Lafayette:_  
_Alex_

 _From Lafayette:_  
_Alexander Hamilton, Treasury Secretary, bien sûr. Now why did I not assume that? Silly me_

 _To Lafayette:_  
_It’s 7:55. He’s coming at 8. I’m nervous. Why am I nervous???_

 _From Lafayette:_  
_Is it a date?_

 _To Lafayette:_  
_No!!!!!!_

 _To Lafayette:_  
_I mean, he said it was a date, but he didn’t mean it._

 _To Lafayette:_  
_It was a friendly “it’s a date” way, like you say it_

 _From Lafayette:_  
_When meeting up, have I ever said “it’s a date” to you, John?_

 _To Lafayette:_  
_Yes._

 _From Lafayette:_  
_Well Mr Hamilton is not me  
_

 _To Lafayette:_  
_It’s not a date. It's five past eight. Where is he?_

 _From Lafayette:_  
_Ah, not a date. One is not late to a date, mon ami_

 _To Lafayette:_  
_Oh, right_

_From Lafayette:_   
_You are upset?  
_

_To Lafayette:_  
_No. He’s just coming round to congratulate me on getting the job and so we can work out what we’re going to tell people._

 _From Lafayette:_  
_YOU GOT THE JOB <3 <3 <3_

 _To Lafayette:_  
_Yes! Sorry, forget to say! Interviewed by POTUS himself if you’ll believe it_

 _From Lafayette:_  
_Félicitacion! YOU ARE ZE BEST. But would do you mean by 'work out what to tell people?' You will continue to tell them the truth as I’m sure you did today. You do not get a job with the President by lying to him._

 _To Lafayette:_  
_About that…_

 _From Lafayette:_  
_John_

 _From Lafayette:_  
_JOHN_

 _From Lafayette:_  
_Mon Dieu_

 _To Lafayette:_  
_I have to go, Alex is here! Speak to you late, Laf!_

 _From Lafayette:_  
_Tell your date he is twenty minutes late. Make him suffer. And then make him promise to tell Georges the truth next time he sees him. You are as bad as each other. Bonne chance_

 

* * *

 

  
Alex was late, a mess, already more anxious than he had been giving his Valedictorian speech at Columbia, and he hadn’t even knocked on John’s door yet. Or, well, buzzed.

Alexander Hamilton was used to his actions backing him into corners and having to talk his way out. Today, he seemed to have slipped into a maze that he was only walking deeper into.

He didn’t understand John Laurens, except for the moments when John would do something—stand up to Jefferson, lie to Washington, smile at Angelica—and Alex would understand him too well. John was a total stranger who seemed to understand some things about him better than his closest friends did. Although his list of close friends was embarrassingly short—Alex tried to remind himself that he didn’t care.

It wasn’t like…he wasn’t lonely. He had Angelica, Washington, and Mulligan. And he used to have James—until he screwed that up. And there was Burr of course. He always seemed to forget Burr.

So, obviously he wasn’t alone. Yes, clearly all of his friends were somehow related to his work, even Burr, but that didn’t lessen the connections between him and them. It didn’t mean they were any less his friends. If he wanted to meet up at the weekend for drinks, or have a dinner party they would surely come. He did things with them outside of work all the time, like when—

He couldn't think of anything. Alex’s hand froze reaching for the buzzer for apartment seventeen. It was like a slight chill running down his arm, a realization, a rush of warm heavy wind. A reminder that whatever he did, however high he climbed, whoever he thought he’d connect with, he would always be alo—

He buzzed number seventeen and tried to shut off his mind.

Luckily, John was an angel and so answered within about three seconds with a slightly out of breath: “Alex!”

It was an exclamation not a question and Alex grinned before realizing John couldn’t see him.

“Hi. It might seem that I’m late, but I assure you this is exactly when we said we were going to meet.”

“Right, sure.”

Thankfully he heard John laughing rather than shouting at him.

“I’ll buzz you up. Sorry about all the stairs.”

Alex took the stairs two at a time—quite a feat between his height and the stupid patent leather shoes. As he scuffed one of his shoes on an exposed nail on the bare wooden floor, he remembered that the shoes had been a gift from James for his birthday last year. The expensive probably-fuck-off-designer shoes looked out of place with the stairwell that looked like it was auditioning for a derelict building site. Somehow the contrast made Alex angry; the inequality seemed unfair.

If he deliberately stomped a bit harder to coat them in dust then that was purely coincidental.

John was waiting with the door open when he finally got there.

“Sorry,” John apologized again. “They said they were going to carpet it a while back.”

“When?”

John looked a little guilty. “A month ago?”

“You should sue them,” he held up his foot awkwardly. “A nail nearly killed me.”

“Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. If they’re going to take anything, I’d be glad to sacrifice these shoes.”

Also, Alex thought, I don’t want you to look like that, or to feel like you need to apologize for ruining a gift from the Emperor of Side Switching and Hypocrisy (Mulligan had decided they needed a new name for James after Alex had moaned about him loudly on the way home from his office for the third night in a row).

John let him in and Alex noted that the décor didn’t improve much from the stairwell.

“Like I said,” John smiled, “I’m job hunting for a reason. The White House pays well, I wasn’t applying out of philanthropy.”

“You did volunteer work back in New York?” Alex asked, knowing he was digging where he maybe shouldn’t, but too curious to back down, as usual.

“For the last month before I left or so,” John turned away from him, walking towards the small kitchen. He started getting them drinks from the fridge without asking Alex any of the usual intermediary questions.

It was a relief, Alex wanted to kiss John then and there just for saving him the small talk of if he wanted a drink, did he usual drink at this time, and was he OK drinking on a weeknight… He’d just finished a thirty-nine hour work day: _of course he wanted a drink._

John getting the beers also meant that he wasn’t facing Alex when he said:

“I worked at a law firm in the city before the volunteer work, the sort of one you sell your soul to on interest, where you dream of being made partner by forty—Well, my father dreamed of me being partner. Quite vocally and determinedly. I dreamed of punching the current partners in the face. Thought it better to quit whilst I still had my license.”

“You just…” Alex frowned around the new information, testing it out in his mind, checking what didn’t seem right, “you realized that you didn't enjoy it?”

“Oh,” John passed him a beer and Alex could see his tight smile now. John looked anxious but genuinely pleased. “I always knew I didn’t enjoy it. But when I came out as gay to my father I decided I might as well get all the disappoints out of the way so told him about my arrest record from past protests, and quit my corporate job on the same day. Thought it’d be easier to deal with it all going at once,” John took a large gulp that Alex politely didn’t think of as a chug.

“That explains the clothes.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your clothes are the most expensive thing in your apartment, you must’ve had them from before,” Alex realized how much he sounded like a dick only after the words had left his mouth. He was still thinking about his own shoes, and letting it get to him.

Wonderfully, John excused him where he shouldn’t have once again and simply said: “They’re useful for interviews.”

“We should talk about that. About the job,” Alex prompted. “And the faking a relationship to the President thing.”

“That little thing,” John laughed.

“I’m glad you’re gay,” Alex blurted out quickly. “Shit—I mean, not in a bad way, in a—I know I’ve made you uncomfortable forcing this fake dating thing on you, although you could have said no or not said anything to James and Jefferson so it isn’t completely my fault, but”—he continued quickly, seeing John’s raised eyebrows—“I’m glad I didn’t make you even more uncomfortable like I guess it would’ve been if you were straight?”

“I guess that would’ve been worse.”

“Anyway, now that we’re here we need to decide what to do.”

“We tell people the truth?” John asked slowly, still not looking at him. It seemed the rim of his bottle had suddenly become extremely interesting.

Alex gulped.

“I mean,” John continued, in a quieter voice. “We should probably admit it’s not true. It won’t help your career if it gets out.”

Alex frowned. “John, I’m openly bisexual. I’m not hiding my sexuality from voters. In fact—can you imagine the sort of positive exposure me having a public relationship would do for LGBT+ causes? Shit, this could help public relations more than any policies I’ve been outlining so far. And if we broke up now, this soon, it could be disastrous, don’t you think—”

“But, Alex,” John said, and oh—John saying his name, that was a nice sound, only nice, he reasoned, not wonderful or life changing or something he desperately need to hear again maybe in a different setting and—“No one even knows we’re dating yet.”

“Oh. About that.” He pulled out his phone, and quickly navigated to the right screen and, yeah it was still there, gaining traction. “There was a reason I was late. My press people were shouting at me. And I know I told you I don’t do apologies so please understand what it means when I admit I am actually sorry about this, John."

He passed the phone over showing the growing list of news articles.

_Nepotism in new President’s cabinet? Treasury Secretary’s secret relationship with new White House employee revealed._

John’s eyes widened and his grip on the phone loosened.

“If you hadn’t already guessed,” Alex muttered, “Jefferson started it.”


	6. Chapter 6

“And then I told him Jefferson had started the rumor and leaked it to the press and he just looked so worried. But—I don’t think he was mad? Probably not. I mean, would you be mad? I don’t know. I'm worry I messed everything up. But I had to tell him, didn’t I?” Alex ran a hand through his loose hair, escaped from the usual ponytail.

Seeing he was going to get no response, Alex continued. “I tried to explain we could ignore the rumors, but John was so polite about it, and he looked so _hope_ ful when I said I thought it might be an encouragement for young people going through similar things. And when I showed him the emails I was getting sent from people about how inspired they were and how it was helping them to get the courage to come out to their friends and families and—I was falling apart at those emails, but you should’ve seen his face. Obviously I didn't show him any of the less supportive ones. Still I know he didn’t want this to happen but—he looked so hopeful that it was doing something good. This is all just shit.”

“Language.”

“You aren’t Washington.” Alex glared. “You don’t get to reprimand me.”

Burr shrugged.

“Alexander, I’m tired, can I go?”

“Wow, Burr. Can’t you see I’m struggling here?” Alex threw his arms up wildly. He didn't point out that they were in Burr's house, in Burr's living room, and that Burr shouldn't be asking his permission to leave. “I always considered you a friend.”

“If being your friend means having you invade my house in the middle of the night to talk about your boyfriend who you then reveal is actually _not_ your boyfriend when I could be asleep upstairs with my wife, then I’m not sure I want to be your friend anymore.”

Alex was about to laugh the statement off, make a joke about too much information, when a heavy weight settled in his stomach. Burr’s face looked a little too serious to be joking; and Alex didn’t exactly have enough friends that he could risk losing one of them.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll leave you to your dear Theodosias. Also not sure if I've said it before, but for the record, calling your daughter after your wife? Weird.”

“You have said it before. And it’s tradition.”

“It’s creepy.”

Burr sighed. “Alexander, I’m not sure what I can do to help. You’ve told me that you only meant John today?

“Yesterday, now,” Alex corrected, but nodded.

“Yesterday. But you told the President elect that you were dating, and the Secretary of State, and the Speaker of the House?”

“It wasn't planned,” defended Alex. "And we all make our mistakes."

“And now you’re admitting to me that this relationship is fake even though you haven’t told any of those people, two of whom care quite a lot about you, or the press, that it's fake?”

Alex nodded slowly, not following where Burr was trying to get him to go. It was an odd feeling, being slightly behind in a conversation, it made him want to bring up a new point that he knew a lot about to try and confuse Burr into acknowledging that Alex was still the smartest. However, Alex reminded himself that he was a grown man who did not need to resort to such childish antics. Instead, he pouted.

“Alexander," Burr said slowly. " _Why_ are you telling me the truth if you haven’t told any of those people?”

Alex paused for a split second before saying: “I don’t like lying. I lied to them all out of convenience and because if I told one of them the truth then the whole thing would crumble, and I need them to believe the lie for the time being. Otherwise it might get back to Jefferson and Madison. So I had to lie to them. But why on Earth should I lie to you?”

“You think it can’t get back to Jefferson or Madison from me because I’m so ill connected?”

“ _No_ , I think it won’t get back to them from you because despite your stern opinion-less exterior, you don’t do things that are pointlessly cruel.”

It was true, perhaps a little too true, but it seemed to make Burr pause if nothing else.

“Thank you, Hamilton, I’m…honored. But, I’m also going to have to ask you to let me go to sleep now.”

Alex nodded, feeling a faint hint of a blush rise in his cheeks. “Of course, I’ll just call a taxi.”

“Don’t you have the car service waiting outside?”

Alex mumbled something indiscernible.

“Pardon?”

“Ihadthemgohome. I... didn’t want them to know I’d left John’s, to keep up the rouse, so I told them to leave me at his and I’d call if I needed to be picked up in the morning. The taxi won't take long. You go to bed, I'll wait for it.”

Burr’s eyebrows raised but he didn’t offer any other judgement. He also didn't show any sign of moving. They were silent for a while, Burr had a sip of his tea. Alex pointedly avoided the other man’s gaze but didn't get his phone out just yet.

“So you’re lying to Mulligan and your driver as well now?” Burr finally asked, before quickly adding, “No, don’t answer that. It’s wrong of me to intrude on personal matters. It’s improper.”

Alex frowned. The fact he had come around to the other man’s house, knocked on the door until the weary and wary Burr had opened it then barged his way in moaning about John being too wonderful probably did make Burr entitled to comment on the issue. In retrospect, Alex realized that may not have been the politest way of getting his friend’s—because Alex had decided that was what they were and refused to hear otherwise—attention. Perhaps it would have been better to wait for Burr to welcome him in.

“I welcome your professional and personal input Senator Burr, sir, however improper,” Alex said. “I also wonder if you know how one inquires, when fake dating someone, if that someone wants to _actually_ date them? I’m asking for a friend, of course.”

Alex wondered if he’d pushed the other man to his limit and was sure Burr wouldn’t answer, but, Burr smiled, as always.

“Generally that’s something you talk about before you start fake dating someone, Alexander.”

“But I didn’t _know_ him when he started fake dating.”

Burr sighed and suggested: "Then get to know him better now?” 

The smile was still there but it was tighter, letting Alex know the conversation was reaching its limit. Might as well push it over.

“I thought you might have some words of wisdom at navigating surreptitious romantic relationships behind people’s backs.”

Burr’s smile dropped and was replaced by a glare. Alex grinned, proud he was the cause of the change.

“Theodosia and I are married with a child, thank you. There is nothing untoward about our relationship now.”

“Assuming a child makes a relationship?” Alex tutted, and pulled out his phone, resigned to calling a taxi. “How very heteronormative of you, Senator Burr, sir. What would the people of New York say? Also, shouldn’t you be in New York?”

“I have a house in New York and in the capital. I’m here for the gala this weekend.”

Burr’s words were polite enough, if a little crisp, but the message underneath was clear: _you already know this, I’m tired, shut up, it’s three am, don’t test me._

Also, he would never admit it, but Alex _had_ forgotten that the dinner party and pre-inauguration gala was this weekend and felt a tendril of stress slowly creeping up inside him. Washington had mentioned the party plenty of times probably, and Alex’s secretary had definitely written something down about it somewhere. Angelica had mentioned at least three times how bored Alex would probably be by her new boyfriend, but that she would be bringing him and some other guests anyway because it was expected.

Because it was expected to bring partners.

Instead of calling a taxi, he went into his messages and found John’s number.

“I think I’ll gonna finally have to listen to you,” said Alex.

“What? Alex, no. I haven’t given you any advice yet—”

The _“yet”_ was a sweet sentiment, as was the worried tone in Burr’s voice, as if he was worried they were still nineteen and Alex would try and arrange fights in parking lots to resolve issues.

(For the record, it was _one_ time, but apparently it was the sort of thing you weren’t allowed to live down).

“You told me to get to know John more. I’ve decided to invite him to the gala.”

Alexander Hamilton said “I’ve decided” with the same finality that doctors pronounced times of death. It was irreversible.

Aaron Burr heard the words “I’ve decided” from Alex with an equal level of dread.

 _To John:_  
_There’s a gala this weekend. Celebrating GWash's victory again. Want to come with me? I promise a great night all around. Good chance to network, great free food, and you might get to see me fail at dancing. – A. Ham_

“There, I’ve asked him,” Alex said, smugly. “ _N_ _ow_ I’ll call a taxi.”

Burr raised a hand to stop him, looking resigned, and gestured for Alex to put the phone away. “It’s too late. We don’t need you starting another rumor by leaving mine at this time. The couch in the study has blankets next to it still. Just leave early,” Burr added. “And maybe you shouldn’t have texted John at this time if you wanted him to like you. No one sensible is awake at this hour.”

Alex felt a rush at gratitude at Burr’s offer but wasn’t going to show it. He was about to protest the last part, about his texting habits, when his phone vibrated in his hand.

 _From John:_  
_Okay? If you want me to. Let me know when and where_

 _From John:_  
_Should’ve known you’d be the type to still use oxford commas in texts_

Alex grinned down at his phone before looking up to brag.

Burr had put his head in his hands.

“I’ve changed my mind,” he groaned. “You two deserve each other.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Burr's here now in the room where it's happening - I'm sorry you had to wait for it.
> 
> (I'm also sorry for these terrible puns, I'm tired but that's no excuse)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Laurens would happily admit he was out of his comfort zone, but if Alex kept smiling then he might be OK. And if they could both get through this party without starting a National disaster maybe that would be nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much. You all make my day.

“You really don't have to do this."

"I know," John smiled. "That's what makes me so brilliant."

Alex's smile widened and John forced himself to not feel flustered.

The problem was that John did feel that he had to do this. But that wasn’t really the sort of thing you admitted. Alex at least seemed grateful that John was going along with him to the gala.

Did people even have galas anymore?

It was misnamed. Really it was just a fancy fundraiser with lots of profitable networking—making money off of sympathy votes, drawing people in with the names of charities that needed the funds and couldn’t question the morals behind how they were accumulated. Or maybe John was too cynical from years of Republican versions of the same event, where he would stand stoically at his father's side.

Alex seemed like the sort of person who would usually be conducting this rant to John, moaning about the hypocrisy. But then again, this fundraising gala was in Washington’s honor so Alex was a tiny bit biased.

John had been surprised when he heard Alex actually insult Washington’s choice of venue for being too ostentatious. It has seemed Alex was convinced the President could do no wrong until that moment.

It was a double standard, he quickly learned: Alex could insult Washington, but if anyone else said a word it would be pistols at dawn.

John Laurens would happily admit he was out of his comfort zone here, but if Alex kept smiling then he might be okay. And if they could both get through this party without starting a National disaster then that would be nice.

"Thank you for coming."

“I was coerced with promises of you dancing.”

John said it just to see Alex laugh and it worked. The other man tucked his head forwards as he did so, as if trying to hide the joy on his face as he laughed. It seemed like a learned response, but it was an uneasy one, as if Alex was worried about people seeing his emotions. Especially for someone as obviously open with his opinions as Alex, it was discomforting, and made John want to punch whoever had taught Alex that he needed to hide his frankly adorable laugh.

“You look wonderful, by the way,” Alex said, meeting John’s eyes.

For some reason, the earnestness in Alex’s words hurt more than if it had been an empty statement. John wanted to return the statement a hundredfold but didn’t think there were enough words to describe the sight of Alex in a tailored suit. The English language was obviously not invented with Alexander Hamilton in mind.

John didn’t know what he - a weak comparison to the man opposite him - was doing here, standing in Alex’s doorway in a suit from his lawyer days and shoes that his sister brought him three birthdays ago. He felt like a fake, and the worst part was that he was one. He had grown up rich but was now a fake rich kid, but he was also a fake struggling student. Now he was a fake politician. And he had a fake boyfriend. The full package.

John fought the urge to run out the door and call Lafayette to pick him back up. Alex was still smiling. So John stayed.

The drive to the gala was made in comfortable silence. Alex had a driver, of course, who called Alex _Secretary Hamilton_ , and John _sir_ and there was an intimidating large man in the front seat who was obviously armed and called both him and Alex _kid._

John vaguely remembered this life from when he was the honored oldest Laurens son: when cars came with drivers, and bodyguards with guns. He thought he had been happy to leave it all behind in South Carolina, but was surprised at how easily he slipped back into it. John suppressed the urge to scream about the inequality and hypocrisy.Maybe the lifestyle hadn’t been ideal, but it had been the people he had hated, not the ceremony and trappings of the occasion. Maybe spending it with a different person made all the difference. 

Alexander Hamilton was about as far from Henry Laurens as you could get.

“Your father won’t be here tonight,” Alex said, as if he could read John’s thoughts.

“What?” John was worried for a minute that maybe Alex _could_ read his thoughts and instantly realized how awkward that could make things. He tried to push the unbidden, less than PG images of Alex out of his mind.

“It’s possible I had someone check if he was going to be here,” Alex fidgeted guiltily. The bodyguard let out a jolt of loud laughter from the front. “And by perhaps, I mean yes.”

“I hadn’t considered it.” And he _should’ve_ considered it. He was stepping dangerously close towards his father’s turf. “Thank you for doing that,” he said seriously.

Alex’s face froze and started to color slightly before looking away from John.

“No problem—oh look, we’re here!” Alex opened his door and jumped out whilst they were still parking. His bodyguard only chuckled though and quickly got out himself. John was left floundering a little.

Alex slowed in his frantic walk towards the entrance so John could catch up.

“Are you ready?” Alex asked.

John nodded and Alex reached down and squeezed his hand.

John maybe zoned out for a second or thirty at the feel of Alex’s hand in his. He was vaguely aware of them walking in, people offering polite greetings, someone offering them both champagne flutes and Alex placing one in John’s other hand. And then they were in the ballroom, in all its decedent glory, and Alex let go of his hand to turn to him and smile again.

Alex was free and forthcoming with his smiles and as much as John wanted him to not stop, he also felt like he was being spoiled. It would hurt more when they stopped all at once.

Alex was looking at him intently now though, and opened his mouth—

“Have you heard what your favorite worst Governor’s done?” Angelica suddenly appeared in front of the two men, cutting off whatever Alex had been about to say. She sipped delicately at her own champagne. Alex kept eye contact with John for a second more before turning to Angelica.

“He can’t have become more stupid, Ang. That’s humanly impossible.”

“Well he’s giving it a try. He’s looking to push the plan through, and no one’s stopped him yet. Maybe you can talk him out of it tonight.” Angelica turned to John and he was helpless under her sharp gaze. “It’s lovely to see you again, Mr Laurens. Do keep good care of Alex for us. Don’t let him kill Lee.” And then she was gone, as quickly as she’d arrived.

“I hate him,” Alex looked into his champagne glass morosely, then downed it in one..

“I might be new to politics high culture, but I am from the south y’know. And I’m sure that’s not how a gentleman’s supposed to drink champagne.”

Instead of blushing, Alex grinned.

“Charles Lee brings out the worst in me.”

“Charles Lee?” John asked. “I know him. Is he here?” He fought down the sudden urge to down his own drink and craned his neck to look around the room, awkwardly, checking if he could see the man in question anywhere.

“Probably, how do you know him?”

“I punched him in the jaw at a fundraiser of my dad’s once,” John said, casually. “Shit. It’s really hard to find a middle aged, balding white guy in a room of middle aged, balding white guys.”

Alex’s eyes had widened but he still laughed, “Welcome to Jackson DC. But, John, light of my life, best boyfriend ever, could you go back to the part where _you punched Charles Lee in the jaw_?”

It was, of course, that moment that their conversation was interrupted by a bald black man with a smile like he was sucking lemons.

The man gave Alex a disapproving, slightly pained look. “Perhaps this isn’t the best time...”

“Of course, not! Aaron Burr, sir!” Alex beamed, “this is my boyfriend, John Laurens.”

John tried to not react. Despite pretending to be Alex’s boyfriend for a week, this was the first time he had been addressed as such. Also, the _way_ Alex said it sounded so excited, as if trying out the word was brilliant for him too. It also sounded a little like Alex had been let into a sweet-shop, or had been given a new puppy.

“John was just telling me about the time he punched Governor Lee,” Alex was practically bouncing now. “You rather rudely interrupted, Burr. The least you could do is listen to the rest of John's story."

The smile on Burr’s face quivered for half a second as he looked between the two of them. Burr settled on looking at Alex and muttered through clenched teeth and a now truly painful smile: “Perfect for each other,” before walking away.

“I’m not sure he likes me much,” John said.

“No, me neither,” Alex grinned. “I’m so proud of you.”

“For making Burr dislike me, or for the other thing?”

“For punching Lee,” Alex clarified. "Definitely for that."

“You should probably stop saying that. You shouldn't endorse violence - hell, _I_ don't endorse violence. And I could probably still be charged or at least sued. I was too young at the time so he was too embarrassed to try and put any charges against me.”

“How young?”

John paused. He sort of hated this story. John had grown up being told repeatedly by the person who was most important in his life that embarrassing the family by resorting to violence was the worst thing John had ever done, and that he was lucky he hadn’t ended up with a criminal record. But here was Alex, who had only known John a week, looking so excited and proud.

He didn’t like telling this story.

But maybe he’d just been telling it to the wrong people.

“Well, I was young, so don’t judge me, okay? It was at one of my father’s election fundraisers and there were too many politicians talking too much shit for a fourteen-year-old freshman who was just discovering how shit the country could be. And this one man was being ridiculously obnoxious and…”

“I’m sorry to interrupt again, gentlemen,” said a rich voice, and it was Angelica again, waltzing between the two of them.

This time there was a young woman with her, their arms linked together. The new woman was smiling sweetly, her dark eyes wide and fixed on Alex.

“But you simply must meet the other Ms Schuyler.”

“Schuyler?” Alex asked, looking at Angelica with a slight frown.

“My sister,” Angelica beamed.

“Eliza Schuyler,” the woman said, demurely. She smiled at Alex. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Secretary Hamilton.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter wasn't meant to end at this point but it got too long. John wanted to tell the Charles Lee story and even with cutting him off he managed to go on for a while. (Blame John?)
> 
> Also sorry for the references from other musicals too now, I can't seem to stop them


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was when Alex smiled at Eliza that John felt his stomach clench and realized he might have a slight jealously issue. Which was ridiculous because he wasn't actually Alex's boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This and the next chapter are my weak-feeble-homage to Helpless and Satisfied. Sort of. Yep, that makes complete sense...

“Eliza, I’ve heard…a lot about you,” Alex offered her a soft, wide smile. “A certain someone doesn’t shut up about you.”

John felt a bit sick. And by a bit, he meant monumentally.

Eliza Schuyler happened to be gorgeous. John knew that much for certain; she also seemed lovely, which was just disgustingly unfair.

“Likewise.”

Oh, and now she was laughing, and it was such a sweet laugh. This was just cruel.

“The stories have been selling you short,” Alex smiled.

It was when Alex smiled at Eliza that John felt his stomach clench and realized he might have a _slight_ jealously issue. Which was ridiculous, because he wasn’t actually Alex’s boyfriend. Alex didn’t owe him monogamy or anything of the sort, and was perfectly entitled to smile at gorgeous, sweet young women. Except. They’d come here together, as a couple. It was—there was an expectation attached to that, wasn’t there? And yet Alex was so blatantly flaunting his lack of attachment—fucking flirting—and John should have been fine with it. But he wasn’t. And wasn’t that brilliant.

Honestly, he was disappointed—he just wasn’t sure if it was with himself or with Alex. John was here because Alex asked him to be, as Alex’s date. It didn’t matter if _Alex_ knew they weren’t actually dating, no one else in the room did, and neither did Angelica for that matter.

John decided glaring at Angelica Schuyler probably wasn’t good for his self-preservation, but he also wasn’t thinking too clearly so decided it was the best course of action. The Secretary of State kept a blank face and raised an eyebrow questioningly as if she saw nothing wrong.  Angelica turned to Alex and Eliza, slipping easily in-between the platitudes of their conversation. “Eliza has recently started her own law practice, she’s stepping out on her own.”

Eliza blushed.

“That’s brilliant,” Alex said, with genuine interest this time, his eyes widening slightly.

“She’s specializing in civil rights law. We're ridiculously proud of her.”

“I can speak for myself, Angie,” Eliza chided her sister, somehow still smiling and maintaining the faint blush. “But thank you, I'm proud of you too.”

Despite standing at Alex’s side, John felt like he was locked outside of the conversation. He remembered his father’s silence down the phone line as John had told him he'd quit the law firm, that he didn't believe in it, and couldn't do it one more day. John made a half noise between a groan and a gasp, looking between the two of them. Angelica shot him a sympathetic smile, and if that wasn’t the final straw he didn’t know what was. He was getting pity from the Secretary of State. Next he was going to get a solid silver consolation gift from the President himself.

“Excuse me,” John said, very quietly and as demurely as he could.

He stepped back and turned away from the conversation. He didn’t wait for a reply, but thought he heard a faint call of his name as he put his glass on a waiter’s empty tray with a quick thanks. But no one was following him. He’d probably imagined the shout: Alex probably didn’t realize he’d gone.

As he got into the hallway he let himself breathe. A few servers and a hostess were milling around and all stood up a little straighter when they saw him, he waved off the one closest to him and kept walking until he found the toilets, going in and pulling out his phone.

“He’s flirting with her, and I was right there, and I thought I'd be okay but I’m not.”

“John?” Laf’s voice, heavy with sleep and something else came through quietly. “Qui?”

“Alex was flirting with the Secretary of State's sister and I had to get out of there.”

“Ah, I see.”

His friend sounded resigned but calm. John took a deep, steadying breath and relaxed a little. He lent back against the cold tile wall and let himself slide down against it a little.

“What did he do?”

“He was just being... _overly_ nice.”

Lafayette fell silent for a little too long before saying: “That was rude of him. Where are you now, John?”

“Still at the party. In the toilet.”

“Go back in there and talk to Alex. This has obviously made you realize something. Yes he is rude, but you, how you say, _like_ him. Am I correct?”

John ignored the teasing tone. There was no point entertaining the thought. So what, even if he did like Alex, Alex obviously didn't feel the same. There was no point accepting something if it wasn’t going to change anything, it just meant that he would be more open to be hurt. Lafayette was waiting for him to talk though.

“I want to go home.”

“I feel you it would be best if you went back in and spoke to Alex first. Mais if you do come home, I can come to yours tonight if you want company?”

“I—that would be nice.”

“But I still feel you should go back in there.”

John groaned. Lafayette made it all seem so simple.

“Fine. But when this fails, I expect you to get to mine in the middle of the night to make pancakes whilst I say I told you so.”

"Perfect. _Bonne chance_ , John.”

John hung up and dared himself to walk out the door and back into the ballroom. This was easy, he was a grown man who had moved to a new state on his own, who had become a lawyer and excelled, and then secured a new job on the President’s own staff within a few months of quitting. He was strong enough to walk back into a party of politicians.

He braced himself and walked back through the door. Instantly it was overwhelming, far more full than it had seemed before; he stood on the edge and watched the partners swirling around the dancefloor. He didn’t want to consider it but forced himself to look for Eliza and Alex in the crowd of dancing pairs, overcome with relief when he couldn’t find them.

They weren't dancing. They were exactly where he had left them in fact, and he was close enough to them that he could see the smile on Eliza’s face.

The scene was the same, but Eliza had slipped into his role, and Alex had allowed her to. Alex looked unfairly brilliant still except Eliza was beside him now, instead of John. Except Angelica wasn’t there any more, it was just the two of them. Except Eliza was holding Alex's hand, and her other hand was on his arm.

John took an involuntary step back and the sudden movement caught their attention. Eliza gasped and Alex turned around. He met John’s gaze, his eyes widening.

“John,” Alex said, quickly - guiltily.

This time, John didn’t try to hide the fact that he was getting out of the ballroom as quickly as possible.

But this time, Alex followed him. 

“ _John_ ,” Alex caught his arm as they reached the hall of waiters again. “Just stop for a minute and let me explain, I didn’t realize—”

John spun around and pulled his arm out of Alex’s grip. A part of him screamed at his mind for making them lose contact but the anger rising inside him quickly overruled it.

“You didn’t _realize?_ Wow, seriously? No, you know what, forget it I wouldn’t want to make a _scene_.”

Instead of walking towards them, the staff all backed away, some of them catching one another’s eyes knowingly as if witnessing relationship breakdowns at political parties was a common occurrence.

Although, of course, what John and Alex had wasn't a relationship, so there was nothing to break.

“I’m not cut out for this role, obviously,” John said. “Why don’t you go back and talk to Ms Schuyler, she seems suitable.”

“What are you talking about?” Alex, to be fair to him, looked generally incredulous as if John’s emotions were complete foreign to him.

“Eliza Schuyler? Actually a successful lawyer who stuck to her morals instead of selling out? You were just talking to her, seemed pretty content.”

“So I’m not allowed to talk to people now?”

Alex sounded indignant and John wanted to shout how unfair that was.

“ _Of course_ you are. I don’t have any ownership over you.”

Alex cautiously looked over at the waiters who were failing at nonchalance.

“Oh, _sorry,_ ” John drawled and heard his accent coming through a bit more. He was a few insults away from throwing out a _Bless your soul_. “I thought from your actions, that we didn’t care what people thought anymore.

“What are you talking about?” Alex’s eyes were wide and his hair was getting bedraggled as he ran his hand through it. “My actions? I hoped I could prove something to you through my actions yes, but it clearly wasn’t this, whatever _this_ is.”

“Oh, so it’s only as issue when I do it? More double standards?”

“More?”

“You’re full of them. Who can insult who? What you can ask of me, what I can’t ask of you—”

“John, I don’t understand—”

“ _Seriously,_ ” John bit back his anger and hissed: “ _Stop talking for once_.”

Alex actually stopped.

It was amazing and rather terrifying to see. Alex looked like John had hit him. He was frozen to the spot, his mouth closing over whatever he’d been about to say. For a second, he looked much younger than he was, and a lot more lost.

John felt something inside him break at the look on Alex’s face and fought down the apology he was sure to make if he didn’t leave now.

“I need to get home anyway, it’s late. I—I just need to go.”

He couldn’t even think of an excuse. But it didn’t matter. Alex was stood still, too mad perhaps, or shocked, to follow John. Or perhaps too hurt.

When John started the argument he was sure he was in the right but now it was over he suddenly felt like shit. Maybe that was what arguing with Alexander Hamilton would always get him. He either lost, or felt so shit about winning that he might as well have.

 _To Lafayette:_  
Going back to mine now. Alex isn't coming.  


_From Lafayette:  
Want me to come over?_

_To Lafayette:  
Only if you’re free._

_To Lafayette:_  
I’m fine.   


John considered how long it would take an Uber to get her, only to realize how cold it had gotten outside. Also, Alex’s bodyguard from earlier was suddenly standing next to him and flagging down one of the sleek black chauffeured cars for him.

“Oh no,” John protested. “Alex—I mean, Secretary Hamilton isn’t leaving yet. It's just me, don't worry.”

“Yeah,” the large man said. “I figured. He's a little shit sometimes.”

“I…are you allowed to say that, Mr…?”

The man laughed. “I’m not some one time private hire bodyguard, that kid’s not getting rid of me in a hurry. I know way too much dirt. And it’s Mulligan.”

“Well, thank you Mr Mulligan.”

Mulligan looked disgusted. “Dude, drop the mister. It’s Hercules or Mulligan. Preferably Mulligan,” he moved to open the door but John didn’t move.

“Wait. You’re Hercules Mulligan? That's not a common name.”

Mulligan glared. “Listen, I know it’s bad practice, but I'm gonna remind you I've got a gun, kid. Lay off the name.”

“No!” John raised his hands. “No insult. Just—do you know—I mean, you know Lafayette, right? Tall, French, amazing.”

For the first time, the other man’s expression changed from playful judgement to confusion and then wide eyed recognition.

“Yeah, Lafayette and I—" Mulligan averted his eyes then looked back to John quickly with a dawning look or realization. "You’re _Lafayette’s_ John? His best friend?”

“And you’re Lafayette’s Hercules?”

“Mulligan.”

“Mulligan,” John corrected very quickly, with a smile. They may have a close friend in common, but the other man still seriously outweighed and outgunned him. “Small state.”

“ _Dude_. Why didn’t Laf tell me about this? You’re dating Ham!”

“Does Laf know who you work for?”

Mulligan shrugged and scrunched up his face, considering. “Pretty big emphasis on secrecy, so not really, but this is Lafayette we’re talking about so probably yes. Okay, I need to talk to him about this. And you’ve got to get home before you freeze. Laf will kill me if I let anything happen to you. And now I’m scared for Alex if he’s hurt you.”

John wanted to protest that Alex hadn’t but the memory of Eliza’s hand in his minutes and Alex’s denial still rung loudly in his mind.

“Don’t think about it too much,” Mulligan said. “And, I know he’s probably been a dick, but at least let someone know you’re home, when you get there. The roads are gonna be treacherous tonight. Text Laf when you’re back.”

“Already done that,” he held up his phone triumphantly.

“Or text me,” Mulligan added, “And I might even tell Alex he’s a dick for you.”

“I’d say please don’t but…”

“It’s true? Look try and hate Ham for at least a day before forgiving him. Give his ego a kick.”

John raised a judging eyebrow judgingly. “A day? Oh, of course. It's so hard to hate him. I’m utterly helpless to his charm and wit.”

“Kid, I can’t tell if you’re joking right now so how can you?”

“Goodnight, Mulligan. Nice to finally put a name to the drunken stories,”

Mulligan laughed. “Likewise, Laurens.”

And that’s how John ended up with his maybe-not-even-fake-anymore-boyfriend’s bodyguard’s phone number and a private car home.

Mulligan shut the door and reminded John again to let someone know he got home safe. Despite the night’s events, John felt comfortable in the warmth of the car, and for second allowed himself to sit comfortably in the fact he was being taken care of: the careful chiding of Hercules Mulligan was more comforting that Henry Laurens had ever been.                                                                                           

John forced that thought, and all others out of his head as surely as possible and tried to focus on the world just outside his window.

The car started up and he watched the impressive building disappear, with light leaking from its windows and spilling into the area below.

Soon enough they started leaving the city behind. It was getting darker, the lights being swallowed by the blackness of the smaller roads, and, hitting the window pane and melting down in front of his eyes, it was beginning to snow.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He’s not my boyfriend,” Alex said.
> 
> Eliza paused. “You’ve been together for six months though, it still counts.”
> 
> “Actually I met him less than a week ago. I may have lied.”

So this was Eliza Schuyler.

Alex stared intently at the new woman. He had never met Eliza before, but he’d heard her virtues extolled pretty much non-stop. By her sister sometimes, but never during work hours, Angelica was the model of professionalism. Unlike Alex's bodyguard.

Hercules Mulligan always dropped the façade of professionalism the second they were out of earshot or camera lens view. And usually the first thing Mulligan would do would be to gush about Eliza Schuyler. If Mulligan ever heard Alex describing him as ‘gushing’ Alex would probably be dead, but it was the only word for the torrent of praises and recommendations of _Eliza passed the bar even quicker than Burr, Eliza liked last night’s speech—she said you must’ve convinced at least half the country, Eliza’s doing more Pro bono work, Eliza messed up and didn't make our date because she was in court being awesome, Eliza is pretty much the most perfect person in the universe ever._

OK, so maybe the last one was paraphrased.

Mulligan, long before he worked for Alex, had been on tour abroad and had met Private Margarita Schuyler. It had been Peggy's first tour and Mulligan had guided her through it. Despite never having met the youngest Schuyler Sister, Alex felt certain Peggy would have been fine on her own, but apparently it had been Mulligan’s presence that had reassured her two older sisters back home.

Angelica was a hard person to gain the trust of, but once you did there was a mutual understanding that you would have to mess up pretty momentously to lose it. Mulligan stayed in Angelica’s good graces. And that was enough to allow him to quickly gain Eliza's trust too.

So when Alex admitted his protection detail always seemed to quit or be dismissed within their first few weeks on the job with him, Angelica saw an opportunity and took it. Before, the person would always hover too close, making Alex nervous, or back off too far—Alex couldn’t help thinking they were put off by him—or they would believe him when he said not to bother him for three days straight leaving him when they shouldn't, or they would interrupt too much and, for one doomed man, run in with their firearm drawn at the sound of Alex panicking only to find that he'd accidentally ripped a page out of a book and was mourning its loss.

Overall, Alex’s past experiences of security details had been rather negative. When Angelica sung the praises of her little sister’s colleague and told Alex to hire him, Alex had been resigned and terrified in equal measure. He knew he would have to accept—because a determined Angelica was almost as immovable as a determined Alex—but he was also terrified. Mulligan came on Angelica’s reputation; Alex couldn’t try and dismiss him for misconduct without hurting one of his only close friends.

Fortunately for both of them—though unfortunately for Alex’s desire to work himself to death which Mulligan regularly interrupted—Mulligan slipped into the role as if he had created it, and for the first time, Alex actually found the essential relationship to be somewhat relaxing, rather than terrifying.

Mulligan was the sort of man you would trust to fight your nemesis and feed your puppy on the same day. Alex still felt a surge of gratefulness that Angelica had helped maneuver him into his life. Mulligan was pretty priceless as far as company went. Also, no one could only their drink as well as Hercules Mulligan.

So Alex could put up with a little _gushing_ about Mulligan’s love for the middle Schuyler sister.

“Eliza, I’ve heard…” Alex searched for the appropriate way to say _way too much_ and settled on, “a lot about you. A certain someone doesn’t shut up about you.”

He glanced at Angelica to check she what she thought of this new information—Mulligan may be able to defend Alex from crowds of reporters and possible assassination attempts, but if Angelica thought he was dangerous for Eliza, Alex’s money would always be on Angelica. Fortunately, the woman seemed to be smiling smugly.

Eliza’s smile grew, and she laughed, “Likewise.”

Shit. Mulligan had too much dirt on Alex to have possible told only favorable stories about him. Actually, if he’d stuck to favorable ones he would’ve run out very quickly. It wasn’t fair that this sweet, gorgeous person had only heard the bad side of Alex.

Realistically, it didn’t matter too much what Eliza thought of him. Sure, she was Angelica’s sister, but she also looked like the sort who wouldn’t gossip or insult him the second his back was turned anyway. It didn’t matter what she thought of him; except that she meant a lot to Mulligan, and she happened to seem wonderful. It was pride, mingled with a constant attitude of proving people wrong, that couldn’t allow Alex to let Eliza hold a bad opinion of him. He could win her around.

“The stories have been selling you short.”

Alex reminded himself that John was right next to him and felt shame jolt inside him like a pin prodded in to remind him that he was once again failing and falling short. Alex shouldn’t go on a personal vendetta to prove his worth to a random woman whilst John was here, except—John wasn’t actually his boyfriend. Alex had promised John networking opportunities and so far had only delivered on monopolizing him. Not only had Alex forced the wonderful acquiescing man into this evening, he was now probably ruining John’s night too.

Maybe it was best to give him some time alone? If he kept this up, John would hate him—as he probably should, Alex deserved it: he had been ruining John's life for the last week. He forced down the self-resentment, and forced on a smile.

Angelica interrupted his thoughts: “Eliza has recently started her own law practice, she’s stepping out on her own.”

“That’s brilliant,” Alex saw Eliza blush at the genuine interest in his voice. Mulligan hadn’t mentioned _this_ before. Maybe Alex would have some Eliza gossip to tell Mulligan this time, rather than the other way around.

“She’s specializing in civil rights law. We're very proud of her.”

“I can speak for myself, Angie.” Eliza added, “But thank you. I'm proud of you too.”

Alex would happily admit his interest was piqued; Eliza was even able to deal with Angelica whilst still seeming perfectly nice. She was fascinating. He vaguely heard something next to him and felt his left shoulder suddenly go colder as the person who had been stood next to him, almost pressed against him actually, walked away.

“John?” he turned around and saw the other man walking away. “I—excuse me—“ he said to the woman.

“You don’t need to follow your boyfriend to the toilet, Alex.” Angelica rolled her eyes.

Eliza’s eyes widened and her mouth formed an adorable little ‘oh’. “He’s your boyfriend?”

“John Laurens.” Alex realized three things at the exactly same time: one, he hadn't even introduced John to Eliza, two, he had been rather blatantly ignoring John, and three, he was avoiding answering Eliza’s question because the idea of restating the lie right now hurt more than ever.

“You didn't say how long you've been together,” Angelica pointed out.

Alex wanted to argue that it was none of Angelica’s business, and that if she, Burr, and then _her sister_ hadn't interrupted them tonight then maybe Alex would’ve worked up the courage by now to ask what he'd been trying to all week and John and he could’ve been actually dating for at least ten minutes.

Instead he picked up the metaphorical shovel, dug himself a little deeper and said: “Six months.”

Alex didn’t like lying. It tasted bad on the tongue. He felt sick. Obviously some of this showed on his face because Eliza pursed her lips.

“Angie, could you give me and Alex a minute alone?”

Angelica raised a perfect eyebrow. “He’s a taken man, Eliza. We wouldn’t want to break Mr Mulligan’s heart, either.”

Eliza blushed again—and really, she did that far too easily but it was still rather endearing—and Angelica turned on her heel somewhat reluctantly, walking up to the Secretary of Defense and pulling him onto the dancefloor.

“Knox doesn’t know what he’s in for,” Alex joked, lightly, watching the man struggle to keep up with Angelica.

“Alex,” Eliza said, ignoring his non-sequitur. “I know you don’t know me. But Hercules talks about you in the highest of terms—even when telling me the worst bits—and I couldn’t help but notice you looked…upset when talking about John.”

“It’s nothing.”

He should probably have told her it was none of her business and to shut up but felt an overwhelming urge to keep this woman on his side, and to be able to confide in her.

“John and you seem like a wonderful couple. I admit I didn’t realize before, I must have seemed very rude not speaking to him. Please apologize to your boyfriend if I don’t see him—”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Alex said.

Eliza paused. “You’ve been together for six months though, it still counts.”

“Actually I met him less than a week ago. I may have lied.”

Alex said the last word like the curse that it seemed.

“I wish—” he started, and suddenly stopped himself. He was oversharing—he _always_ overshared.

Burr would have called him out on it by now; Angelica would have lent in and tried to memorize every bit he let slip; Washington would have suddenly looked very concerned—Mulligan would have changed the topic so he didn't embarrass himself.

Eliza simply stood there and let him choose what to do or say next.

“I wish he was my boyfriend,” he said. "But it's all just a lie."

She cringed slightly sympathetic. “Oh, Alexander. I’m sorry.”

Again, sympathy was not an emotion or concept he accepted well or courteously. But Eliza reached and took his hand in hers squeezing it lightly, and tactfully placing her other hand on his arm softly. “For what it’s worth, I’m sure he feels the same way.”

Alex laughed at the absurdity of it. John was pretty much the most amazing man Alex had met and he’d known him less than a week. People like that didn’t actually date people like him.

“Not true. I wish I could try and convince him how I actually feel but—I feel like—shit, I've said too much but. I wish I had the actions to show him how I really feel, rather than just empty words.”

Eliza suddenly gasped, and Alex felt the burn of someone’s eyes behind him. He turned to see John standing there, only a little way away and—shit— _what if he’d heard_.

John looked—wrecked. His eyes were narrowed and his mouth slightly open, as if he were confused or refusing to accept something before him, he took a step back, away from Alex and—

John must’ve heard him admit everything to Eliza. John probably felt tricked and deceived and rightly so. Alex should've told him face to face before now.

Alex would’ve been satisfied simply with John not hating him. Now he had ruined any chance of that quite spectacularly.

“John,” Alex felt bad for rushing the word. He wanted to savor every time he got to say John's name. He needed to apologize, to try and save this, and not make John feel uncomfortable or hurt him. It was too much to do all at once when his mind was spinning. Even Alex's powers of conversation were not up to the task. 

John turned without a word and ran out of the room.

"Eliza, I've got to -"

" _Go,"_ she instructed.

Alex did the only sensible thing—the thing he found he would quite happily do forever—he followed John.

Alex caught up with him, just outside the doors and reached for John’s arm. “John, just stop for a minute and let me explain, I didn’t realize—”  _I didn't realize_ _you were there, I didn't know you could hear me, I didn't think you would be this upset_ …

John spun around, pulling his arm away from Alex. When John spoke his voice was nothing like earlier—it was a cold frost—a crack of thunder, a harsh wind knocking him down.

“You didn’t _realize?_ Wow, seriously? No, you know what, forget it. I wouldn’t want to make a _scene_. I’m not cut out for this, obviously. Why don’t you go back and talk to Ms Schuyler, she seems suitable.”

John wasn’t making sense. Alex had been about to apologize but instead asked: “What are you talking about?”

“Eliza Schuyler? Actually a successful lawyer who stuck to her morals instead of selling out? You were just talking to her, seemed pretty content.” John’s teeth were gritted as he spat out the words.

So this was about something different. Alex wasn’t the most intuitive in social situations but he could see he had screwed up when he didn't introduce John to Eliza before talking to her. But that didn’t warrant the bite behind John's words.

"So I’m not allowed to talk to people now?”

“ _Of course_ you are,” John exclaimed. “I don’t have any ownership over you.”

 _Ownership_. It was a loaded word to throw especially around in a room when they weren’t alone. Alex had planned out how this evening would go and had been proud of how perfectly it was playing out to begin with. Everything had been going so well. Slowly, he noticed there were other people in the room. It was easy to miss things like that when he was with John. The lingering staff were judging their argument, only a few meters away from some of the most powerful people in America.

“Oh, _sorry,_ ” John's accent slipped through on the word. Alex knew they were arguing and this was not the best time, but couldn’t help but notice how John’s accent made him feel, and how with his suit and catty demeanor he looked like the perfect southern gentleman right now.

John added, “I thought from your actions, that we didn’t care what people thought anymore.”

“What are you talking about? My actions?” Alex snapped back. “I hoped I could prove something to you through my actions but it clearly wasn’t this, whatever _this_ is.”

“Oh, so it’s only as issue when I do it? More double standards?”

“More?”

“You’re full of them. Who can insult who? What you can ask of me, what I can’t ask of you—”  

“John, I don't understand—” 

“Seriously, _stop talking for once.”_

Alex felt like someone had forced a stone down his throat dropping it into his stomach, weighing him down, and pinning him with the words. Stop talking. It was something Alex had heard repeatedly before and of course John would think it too. Alex talked off at the mouth to everyone—no one would like that. 

Suddenly, Alex was twelve, being told by the woman at the group home that if _he just stopped talking._ He was fighting to get through high school, swapping schools and families every six months, every teacher pulling him aside after class to tell him to give the other kids time, ignoring his raised hand. He was being rejected from Princeton, being informed of the irony that if he could have just _stopped talking_ maybe they’d have listened. He heard Burr's smiling advice to _talk less._ He was in James Madison’s flat, being told that it wasn’t James' fault, he just couldn’t cope with Alex’s _non-stop opinions, always talking, always—_

Alex closed his eyes against the memories. Not now. He heard John say something but couldn’t decipher what. It had meant a lot that John had never shut up him or stopped him during one of his long rants or convoluted plans. Mentally, he tried to reason that John hadn’t meant it like that. It was Alex who was in the wrong here, John was allowed to react. He was here in the present with John. He was alive. He was safe. He could make it right.

Slowly, he forced himself to open his eyes. He looked around and in front of him but the hall was empty.

John was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always for reading


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex has to face Mulligan, Lafayette, storms, hot chocolate, turtle slippers, and a disappointed John Laurens.
> 
> “Nice tortoise slippers."
> 
> “They’re turtles,” John glared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Alex gets flashbacks to the hurricane from the storm. Luckily his friends are there to help him. But, fair warning.)

Alex was grateful and resentful of Hercules Mulligan’s competency in equal parts.

“He’s already gone,” Mulligan informed him, leaning against the car as Alex dashed out of the building.

“I need to talk to him.”

“Yeah, you do.” Mulligan leaned into the car’s window, said an address, and then looked at Alex expectantly. “Are you coming?”

Alex didn’t need to be told twice. Mulligan sat in the back with him rather than in the front seat for once. This was probably because sitting next to Alex made it easier for him to glare and smirk at him.

“I may have made a mistake.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“I feel bad enough already. It was all a misunderstanding—I was talking to Eliza—”

“Eliza was there?” A puppy dog smile slipped onto Mulligan's face.

“Yes, I finally met her. She’s lovely, and I was telling her that and then John left, and your Eliza is ridiculously easy to confide in so I…told her something I shouldn’t about John. And I didn’t know John could hear. He seemed more upset than it warranted.”

“More upset than seeing his boyfriend flirting with and telling secrets to an amazing woman warranted?”

Alex opened his mouth to correct Mulligan about the ‘boyfriend’ part then promptly closed it. “He thought I was _flirting_?”

“Your default setting is flirting. You’re seriously the dumbest clever person I’ve ever met.”

“Oh, _shit_.”

 

* * *

 

Alex buzzed John’s apartment building and waited impatiently, jiggling from foot to foot. The snow was coming down heavier now; Alex vaguely remembered weather warnings for the East Coast this weekend. The floor had been painted white with the early flurries when they got in the car, and during the journey at least an inch had settled beneath their feet. Alex had to grab the locked door to stop himself from slipping as he waited. Mulligan muffled his laughter behind him.

“Go away,” Alex huffed. “And take the car.”

“I’ll leave if he lets you in.”

“ _When_ he lets me in. And by ‘leave’ do you mean hide so I can’t see you watching me, then maybe text Eliza?”

Mulligan put a hand to his heart in mock sincerity. “I would never text whilst at work.”

Alex turned around and buzzed again. And again.

Finally: “ _What?”_

John’s voice was lined with static and stress.

“It’s me,” Alex admitted. “Please let me up so I can explain how truly sorry I am for being an inconsiderate jerk for the whole night.”

There was a pause then the voice came back through: “for the whole week.”

“For the whole week,” Alex quickly agreed.

The door buzzed open. Alex didn’t even turn back to Mulligan to say _I told you so_ , he simply rushed inside, lest the door close and lock him out of his one shot to make this right.

Getting up the creaky staircase was quicker this time. Alex didn’t stop to check his surroundings—he started up the staircase and then he was knocking on John’s door: anything in between was irrelevant.

John was still in his suit when he opened the door. His dress shoes had been discarded though in favor of fluffier footwear.

“Nice tortoise slippers."

“They’re turtles.”

Alex thought he might be denied access on that mistake alone judging from John’s small glare, but the other man opened the door wide.

“You better come in. It’s freezing out there.”

“It’s still snowing.”

“I know. You should head off soon or you’ll be stuck here. Is Herc waiting downstairs?”

“Maybe. And please call him that in front of me,” Alex grinned.

A small smile slipped onto John’s face which he chased off with a frown. “We need to talk.”

Alex’s whole body disagreed: his heart speeding up, his palms sweating, and head spinning but his voice said, “Yeah, sure.” It wasn’t like John could break up with him. They weren’t even dating, he reminded himself bitterly.

John deliberated for a few seconds, not moving. His eyes looked darker in the lamp lit room. John’s attention was pulled to the window, watching the snow thicken into a blizzard. “I’ll get some candles in case the power goes out. Do you like hot chocolate?”

“I—yeah, who doesn’t?”

John smiled again. “Correct answer. I’ll be right back.”

Alex headed for the only couch whilst John disappeared. He was getting settled, carefully keeping his snow slicked shoes off the rug, when the bathroom door next to him opened.

Alex looked up to find a ridiculously attractive, ridiculously annoyed man with something of the supercilious nature of Jefferson in his features, towering over him.

“You must be Alex.”

“Um—”

“I am Lafayette. John’s closest friend.”

Lafayette shook Alex’s proffered hand and sat down next to him.

“You smell like cockroaches and look worse than the inside of a sewer. John deserves a hundred of you after you got him so confused tonight after getting his hopes up and I hope the economy crashes and you get fired.”

Lafayette said this all in fluent French, with a smile.

Alex hastened to break the illusion and explain that he understood French but that was when John returned, throwing a stern glare at Lafayette. John handed them both a steaming mug.

“Traitors and scumbags do not deserve delicacies such as hot chocolate. You should give him bleach.” Lafayette said. "Watered down bleach, maybe."

John’s face didn’t change and Alex assumed he didn’t understand. Alex let out a little snort though and John turned to him raising an eyebrow. “You speak French, don’t you?”

“It’s my first language.”

Lafayette spilled a little of his hot chocolate on his burgundy coat. “ _Merde.”_

 _A laugh was bubbling up inside him when the wind threw some snow loudly against the window and Alex’s attention snapped to the gathering storm outside. Al_ ex wanted to pay attention to the conversation—John had said they needed to talk. But Alex’s eyes kept being pulled to the forming blizzard. A particularly large gust of snow and wind shook the windows and Alex grabbed his mug with both of his hands, willing them not to shake. _Not now_ , he thought, _you’re safe._ The mug was too thin so it was boiling—probably heated in the microwave, and it burnt through the thin ceramic to his hands. The slight pain grounded him, focusing him in the present, away from the window or thoughts of what was happening outside. The wind—

It was cold enough for snow. So he was in DC. America. _Focus Hamilton_.

John obviously followed where Alex was looking. “You should really call Herc and your driver up here—” the _if you’re staying_ was implicit. “It’ll be too deep out their soon.”

“Hercules is here?” Lafayette exclaimed.

“My driver’s already gone,” Alex admitted. “But I’ll text Mulligan. He’s probably skulking inconspicuously around your corridors…” Alex realized he should probably understand more of what Mulligan’s job actually was but decided to file that away for later.

John started saying something and Lafayette was definitely talking, in English this time Alex thought, but Alex’s eyes were drawn to the window again and the storm he couldn't see the snow anymore, could just see the dust being blown through the air. But the snow must be there, snow meant it was cold... but all he saw was rain, and the wind—

The heat from his mug seared through him, heating his body, and he remembered the wind’s heat as it wrapped around everything. The boiling heat. The glass shook in the window again. Alex held on a little tighter and felt something hot land on his wrist

John swore. Suddenly he was taking the mug out of Alex’s hand, and the heat was gone. “Are you alright?”

Alex’s wrist hurt but not badly. Suddenly, John was kneeling in front of him though, putting the mug to the side and looking at Alex with wide eyes. It wasn’t right that John looked so scared and _no_ _no_ John was scared. Alex needed to make sure John was safe—he ripped his eyes away from the beautiful man’s worried face, it hurt to know he’d caused that, and back to the window, watching the storm. Maybe if he didn’t look away then he could keep them safe.

“I didn’t realize it was so hot, Alex, I’m sorry. You zoned out for a minute there. Hey, Alex? Alex can you talk to me? Alex? What is it? Laf he’s not responding what do I do?”

“Petit Alex? Alex? Qu'est-ce qui se passe?”

Alex tried to respond, to talk, but the wind—

Suddenly, the curtains were drawn tightly over the window and he couldn’t see the storm anymore.

“It’s snowing,” said a voice that Alex recognized; this was the man who closed the curtains. "Definitely snow." He walked towards Alex and stopped a few feet away. “It’s cold enough for snow,” Mulligan said, calmly. “So you must be in DC, right?”

“Imperical method,” Alex nodded suddenly.

Mulligan snorted. “Sure. As long as we know it’s snow.” Alex took one long breath, holding it in for the count of seven then exhaling for eleven. He did it again. Mulligan stayed knelling next to him, breathing in time with him.

“Thank you,” he said after a minute, plastering on a fake smile as broadly as he could and turning to John and Lafayette’s wide eyed, worried faces. “Got lost in my head for a minute.

“No problem,” Mulligan straightened up and brushed down his trousers.

Lafayette, obviously deciding it was best to ignore the giant elephant that had just paraded itself into the room, jumped up and threw their arms around Mulligan. “Hercules!”

John was still watching Alex. From somewhere, he produced a glass of water and hadn’t it to him. “Is there anything else I can do?” he asked.

“You could have an honest talk about your feelings with your boyfriend!" Mulligan said, too loudly.

John’s brown furrowed. “How did you get in here anyway?”

“The door was open.”

John turned and glared at him, shaking his head once.

“Well, it was unlocked.”

John raised an eyebrow and Mulligan shrugged. “It’s literally my job, kid. Don’t look at me like that.”

"Breaking into my apartment?"

Alex only half paid attention to this exchange, making sure his breathing was back to normal. Something in his mind registered that Mulligan knew exactly what he was doing, directing the conversation away from Alex and giving him time before he had to talk. Maybe John knew what he was doing too, playing along. It sort of made him want to hug one of them and confess his undying love to the other. Or at least actually start dating him.

Oh, and that was something. This was all falling apart. It was time to tell the truth for once.

“John," Alex said quickly, "since that morning in the coffee shop I’ve been forcing you into this, and I asked, but I never really gave you a choice. And your best friend is here and you shouldn’t have to hide things or change them because of me. Lafayette, Mulligan, you should both know that John and I—” Alex started, surprised at how normal his voice sounded whilst he was ripping his heart apart. But Lafayette interrupted.

“Oui. You and John need to talk. Because you didn’t talk about making your relationship public yet and feel bad, of course, for how John may be feeling that you pushed him into it. Hercules and I shall be in the kitchen talking about you, if you need us.”

Before Alex could protest, Lafayette had turned on his heel and stalked into the kitchen with a knowing smirk. Alex heard John muffle a laugh next to him. Suddenly it was just the two of them, and John was still kneeling only inches from his face, and _oh_ , this was certainly something he should be paying more attention to.

Mulligan half turned but caught Alex’s eye and looked pointedly back at the window.

“You sure, kid?”

“We’re good,” Alex said, confidently. “It’s cold enough for snow. We’re good. I remember.”

“Alright. Call if you have any trouble with this one,” Mulligan nudged John and then followed Lafayette, closing the kitchen door behind him.

“Are you and Mulligan friends too?”

“We met tonight,” John smiled, turning to face Alex. “After—”John’s smile disappeared so quickly it was like it was never there.

“After I was an oblivious idiot? An idiot who spent too long talking to Mulligan’s girlfriend instead of my boyfriend—admittedly, my fake boyfriend, but still it was discourteous and also a dick move. I didn’t know what to do—and I shouldn’t’ve left without telling Washington but I couldn’t let you leave so I followed you.” John looked like he was about to interrupt but Alex pushed on. “Please forgive me, I just need to succeed here. I’ve got to build something in this cabinet that’s worth something, I didn’t want to jeopardize the job. So sometimes I get too excited and nervous...and ask random beautiful perfect strangers to fake date me. And tonight I freaked out because I was telling Eliza something and I thought you overheard and then I sort of lost it and argued with you in the hall—”

“Wait. Alex, you mean…Eliza is…?”

“Mulligan’s girlfriend,” Alex nodded. “I told you someone had told me a lot about her.”

“I thought you meant Angelica had been bragging.”

“Angelica doesn’t need to brag. She knows how awesome her sisters are.”

“I—” John blinked slowly. “I really got the wrong end of the stick there.”

“I didn’t exactly help.”

“Call it even? Back to fake boyfriends, no fake breaking up?”

Alex wanted to protest the ‘fake’ part but would take what he could get. He nodded and John smiled and for a moment the deceit all seemed worth it.

“Lafayette knows about us by the way.”

“I guessed. Eliza does too now.”

"I didn't overhear anything, you know." John frowned. “I just saw you holding her hand and - got the wrong impression. Is that what you were telling her that you didn’t want me to hear? That this is fake?”

Alex wanted to end this conversation, to pretend consequences didn’t exist, and to just stay in the snowed in apartment with John Laurens and perfect temperature hot chocolate.

So of course, Alexander Hamilton lied through his teeth.

“Yeah. That was all it was.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, you and Alex, huh?”
> 
> John suddenly felt exposed in his slippers and suit next to the intimidating presence of Hercules Mulligan.
> 
> “I’m not gonna threaten you,” Hercules said.
> 
> “That’s that the sort of thing people say before they threaten you.”

Lafayette looked at John pointedly and despite years of friendship, John pretended he couldn’t interpret it, coolly looking away and towards Alexander instead.

“I thought you were in love with Eliza," John admitted, hearing how mad it sounded when voiced aloud.

“I’d only just met her. People don’t fall in love that fast. Also, it's Eliza. And I respect Mulligan a lot and by respect I mean am a little bit terrified of?” Alex turned to Hercules and grinned. “And I respect Eliza, and would never besmirch her brilliance by hitting on her?”

Hercules nodded. “She's way too good for you. No offense, John,” he added.

Right, because they were dating. So Alex _hadn’t_ told Hercules. Lafayette looked over at Hercules a little guiltily and John realized Lafayette now had to lie for them as well. The web of lies was growing. Despite the confusion though, the embarrassment of the mix up with Eliza and storming out of the _President’s party_ , John couldn’t regret embroiling himself in any of the chaos because of what he'd gotten out of it.

Alexander Hamilton was one of the most influential men in the country and he was sat on John’s couch, with his friends, drinking John’s special recipe hot chocolate—that was his old pretentious side talking: all he did was double the powder. John’s world and Alex’s didn’t exactly intersect but the man was still here.

This way, at least he got to pretend to date Alex. Soon, Alex would move onto some perfect politically advantageous, successful woman or man, someone like Eliza Schuyler, and John would be left like he was before. No contact with his family, save his eldest sister who was wising up about his father, probably unemployed because Washington was sure to fire him before he even started at this point, left with only his one bedroom apartment with one couch, and nowhere for Hercules to sit.

John was already sat on the floor at Alex’s feet or he would have given Hercules his spot. Lafayette was curled up next to Alex though, asking him questions now about the President. Or, at least that was who John assumed he meant by George.

“He has not mentioned me, non?”

“He doesn’t tell me everything? He definitely mentioned having a brilliant dinner with Martha and a guest a few weeks ago which was probably when you were there...I’m sure he just doesn’t want to brag at work. I mean not that you're only worth mentioning to brag—”

Lafayette waved off Alex’s worry and flicked his hair back. “I am worth bragging about. Georges is a close friend. He was wonderful to me when I first moved here after the death of my parents."

“You’re an orphan?” Alex asked—excitedly? John turned around abruptly to frown at Alex’s wide eyed enthusiasm but heard Hercules scoff behind him as Alex exclaimed “I’m an orphan too!”

Lafayette seemed to be as confused as John and simply nodded slowly, hoping that would curb Alex's excitement at their shared loss.

“He did this to Burr too,” Hercules said. “We think it’s what scared him off.”

“I don’t think I scared him off!” Alex said, grumpily.

“By we, I meant me and Angelica, not you, kid.”

John laughed at the scowl on Alex’s face. John was also glad to realize he wasn’t the only one Hercules was calling ‘kid’. Made him feel less small. Also, Hercules calling him the same name as Alex who he obviously cared deeply about—regardless of whether the younger man noticed or not—was evidently a compliment. John fought down his grin. Again, when he turned he caught Lafayette looking at him knowingly. So John looked away quickly.

“I’ll get you a chair from the kitchen, Herc. Sorry about the apartment.”

Alex frowned. “What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s small, Alex.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes it is, it’s only one bed. Not all of us have a private penthouse apartment Mr Secretary.”

“I didn’t always, John. This apartment’s big. And it's just for you. You’ve got more than one room. And windows. And a working bathroom.”

John was about to make a joke about Alex having low standards but he caught the sincerity and discomfort in Alex’s voice just on time. There was obviously something there in the _I didn’t always_ and the slight longing in Alex’s eyes as he looked around John’s shabby rooms. John’s only points of comparison were the family mansion style house on the old plantation and his penthouse in New York. Both funded by his father. Downgrading to a one bed had seemed catastrophic.

Maybe he just had skewed elitist standards.

John wanted to apologize to Alex, to take back the bad words about his own apartment. To apologize that he didn’t know enough about Alex’s past and shouldn’t have assumed. But he couldn’t say that because according to Hercules John was Alex’s boyfriend and maybe it would be odd he hadn't known those things already

John had seen how Alex reacted to the blizzard outside and he hadn’t known what to do. If Hercules hadn’t arrived would John have been any use? He’d freaked out and deferred to Lafayette instantly in his panic. He would’ve been no use to Alex if it were just the two of them—he knew his own coping mechanisms, his own triggers—but he didn’t know Alex or what would help him and make him happy.

He wished that he did.

For a second, John let himself imagine what it would be like if he and Alex had truly been dating for six months. He would be able to help Alex and would know what to do. He would have felt comfortable enough at the party to call Alex out and they could have resolved it and stayed; Alex would feel comfortable to come into John’s apartment and not have to tentatively sit on the edge of the couch and deal with his fears alone due to worry about John’s reaction. They would trust each other. Maybe Alex would know this space inside out and make jokes about how large it was, how John had a mansion in one of the best states in the US, and Alex would be here when John made pancakes for breakfast, walking in behind him, wearing John’s turtle slippers.

Alex would’ve known they were turtles and not tortoises.

It was a ridiculous image—fantasy—lie. But that didn’t mean he wanted it any less.

“Looks like you all might be staying here tonight if the snow keeps up." He looked at Alex as he mentioned it, but the other man remained calm, simply murmuring the word  _snow_ "I’ll see if I can find more blankets.”

“Oh, John!” Lafayette put his hand to his heart and swooned. “You want us all to _stay the night?_ ”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“It’s a very kind invitation,” Alex added. The statement would have been innocent enough but the salacious grin that accompanied it was enough to draw a blush up to John’s ears. The man was sat right behind him, and as he spoke Alex leaned forwards so his hair hung down and brushed the top of John’s head. His breath hitched and hoped no one else noticed.

“You can sleep in the stairwell,” when he spoke his voice was only a little unsteady.

“But you’re a Southern gentleman,” Alex said, “it goes against your breeding to kick anyone out in the snow.”

“I wasn’t disowned for nothing,” John deadpanned. Alex’s face froze for a minute and John quickly grinned so the other man knew he was joking.

Then and there, John decided he would get to know Alex well enough that the other man never had to look unsure of himself like that when John joked.

“I’ll get the chair,” John said, softer this time, still smiling at Alex. “And some snacks.”

Alex smiled back. Even with John sat on the floor, their heads were nearly equal height, with the low dip in the couch and John’s height advantage. Alex’s face was too close, he was right there in front of John, and John wanted to just lean in.

Instead, he forced himself to stand up quickly and rush to the kitchen before he could reveal anymore.

 

* * *

 

John clanged bowls around loudly and nearly dropped one when he turned and saw Hercules leaning against the closed door.

“So, you and Alex, huh?”

John suddenly wanted to be anywhere else in the world. He felt exposed in his slippers and suit next to the intimidating presence of Hercules Mulligan.

“I’m not gonna threaten you,” Hercules said.

“That’s that the sort of thing people say before they threaten you.”

Hercules’ face split into a wide grin. “True. But that makes it easier. I don’t even need to say the threat.”

“No?” John asked. “No. Definitely no need to say it.” He was unable to stop himself adding, “Not that I couldn’t take you in a fight. But you’d never need to test it. Because he’s Alex. And I’m—I’m not going to do anything to hurt him. I know it’s…been a while. But I feel this week’s brought us even closer—telling people, letting them know…I haven’t really gotten used to telling people I’m gay yet even,” and wasn’t that the first honest thing in that sentence.

“Angelica told me about you two before Ham did,” Hercules admitted. “I was shocked she didn't know already. I know her through her sisters, she’s the kind of person it’s hard to keep a secret from.”

“Yeah, erm—yeah, Alex has said,” John improvised. “So you and Eliza are together? But you're friends with Angelica too?”

“Yep. Met the youngest Schuyler first actually whilst on tour. Won the older two’s approval. Started dating Betsey—almost lost Ang’s approval for a while at that, but gained it back. Ang is a good one to have in your corner and she's trusted me since Peggy and I came back.”

Feeling bad for deceiving Hercules, John offered him another bit of truth: “I wanted to join the army before college to get away. Got the enlistment papers and everything—and my father tore them up. Told me to be a lawyer.”

“And you end up working for the White House?”

“Things change. Alex—” John didn’t know what he had been planning on saying but Hercules’ face softened to a knowing smile. “Alex changed things.” As he said the words, he realized how true they were and how deep he really was in this shit. And by shit he meant his freakishly large crush.

Alex could be terrifying when facing up to political rivals, or fighting for something he was passionate about, but he was also obviously uncertain and uncomfortable in certain situations; too stubborn to remove himself from them. John already found Alex amazing and infuriating and hadn’t even known him a week.

As long as he could, he would do anything in his power to keep Alex safe. And wasn’t that a dangerous thought to have this early.

Hercules’ grin widened though, so John must’ve done something right.

“I’m ninety-nine percent sure Laf’s giving Ham the same shovel talk right now if you want to listen in?”

John might have just discovered a new depth of his feelings for Alex, but nothing could keep him from a show like that even if it was at the other man’s expense.

“Hell yes.”

Hercules swore as they opened the door. “Should've checked. No use, kid, they’ve reverted to French.”

John grabbed him and bodily moved him out of the way—noting Hercules’ shock and mild admiration at the move. He hadn’t been joking when he said he could probably take him on.

John opened the door slightly, only a fraction, knowing it couldn’t be seen from the couch, and the voices came through a little louder. Thankfully, he had stuck with the Laurens heritage and improvement plan growing up long enough that he was fluent in French. Lafayette knew of course, but if Alex didn’t know then it was hardly John’s fault…

“You know it’s fake,” Alex’s voice said.

Despite knowing the older man couldn’t understand, John’s eyes flicked back to Hercules to check he hadn’t been bluffing. The other man just looked disgruntled at missing out and muttered something about Alex teaching him Spanish instead. John held back his laugh so as not to miss Lafayette’s words.

“Of course. But if I did not know then I would perhaps have believed it.”

“What’d you mean?” Alex asked, sharply.

“Simply that I would have believed that you were infatuated with John Laurens and had been in a romantic relationship with him for a considerable amount of time from the way you are around him. And the way you look at him of course.”

There was a pause in which John wanted to scream and back away and move to Australia and then Alex said: “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes you do. Do not deny it, my friend.”

“You think I’m in—” Alex’s voice hitched and _broke,_ “You’re saying I’m in love with John Laurens.”

“I never said that.”

There was a longer pause this time and John felt himself leaning in, holding onto the doorframe, feeling like a failing spy and a thirteen year old with a crush simultaneously.

Finally, in a quieter voice, Alex asked: “Is it that obvious?”

This time it was John’s breath that hitched as he gasped loudly.

The voices fell silent.

And that’s when Hercules Mulligan pushed John through the doorway and he tripped onto the carpet of his own living room, landing inelegantly looking up at Lafayette’s amused face and Alex’s shocked, scared eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been listening to "I won't say I'm in love" from Hercules on repeat. Does it show?


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What’s wrong?”
> 
> “Don’t say that,” Alex repeated sharply. His eyes were still wide but there was an urgency to them now. “Life can fall apart but you only get this shot at it and you cannot throw that away. And you’re amazing John Laurens so stop insinuating otherwise. And this has been one of the best weeks off my life too. So how about we both agree it’s been a fantastic week and don’t argue for a second time tonight?”

John used to play a game with his siblings, jumping from one couch to another, because if you touched the floor it would swallow you up. The game was simple, distracting, and resulted in his youngest sister breaking her wrist once and John and Martha being grounded for a month and a week respectively by their father for being the oldest who were meant to be the “most responsible”. Despite the game’s negative memories, John still remembered the desperation to not touch the floor for fear of being swallowed whole.

If only the floor would open him up and swallow him now.

“I didn’t mean—”

“I was only—”

John spoke at the same time Alex did and cursed himself. Alex trailed off and John wanted to beg him to keep talking and finish his sentence. _I didn’t mean_ …what? That he loved—

John realized he was half sprawled on the carpet, on his knees and quickly stood up brushing down his suit. It was going to need a dry clean. The slippers, he was pleased to note, were still perfectly fine, although they were perhaps largely responsible for him tripping up.

A combination of the slippers and Hercules Mulligan.

John thought he and Hercules had the makings of a lifelong friendship. Now he knew it. The man was too smart for his own good.

He probably knew French too, the little _spy_.

John was about to turn and glare at Hercules—let him know John had caught up on his plan—before he realized he should probably deal with the wide eyed, panicking cabinet member in front of him.

Even Lafayette wasn’t laughing or looking amused, but instead looking at Alex worriedly.

“I’m so sorry,” Alex said. His voice was hoarse and so _sincere_ it nearly broke John’s heart. “I don’t know how much you heard. I—I shouldn’t have assumed you didn’t know French. That was completely inappropriate.”

Alex paused for a minute, bit his lip, and then laughed once, too loudly and a little hysterically. “You do know French right?”

“Yes.”

“And you did overhear what I just said to Laf?”

John really wished the floor would hurry up on swallowing him. The apartment complex was poorly made, the floor was bound to fall through at some point, might as well do it now.

“Yes,” he said, guilty.

“You see I thought you’d overheard me admit this exact same thing already tonight to Eliza, and that time really went to shit for me,” Alex said the long sentence as if it were one syllable then hissed out a tight breath. “This time’s not going much better.”

“Alex—”

“No, I really shouldn’t have said that like that.”

At least Alex wasn’t saying he shouldn’t have said it because it wasn’t true. But the certainty in Alex’s voice still hurt. Alex had said it to Lafayette though, and John had been so sure he’d meant it. But what could John say now if Alex was denying it? He thought that Alex had said he liked him. But was that actually possible? Maybe his French wasn’t what it used to be.

Every muscle in Alex’s small body was tensed as he looked about an inch above John’s head, purposefully not making eye contact. Lafayette pursed his lips as he sat watching the tension grow.

“Eliza’s texted,” Hercules broke the tension, and John breathed a sigh of relief that someone had spoken. “She wants to know if know if you’re OK Ham, and to apologize to you John.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” John quickly said.

“Eliza doesn’t like conflict,” Hercules said, not looking up from his phone—and probably unaware that a smile had slipped onto his face. “Accept the apology and let her buy you a muffin next time she sees you.”

John forced a small laugh thinking it sounded reasonably natural. “I can do that.”

Lafayette turned from Alex and looked pointedly at John. OK, so maybe it hadn’t sounded _that_ natural. His body was a livewire and he was trying to joke with a member of the secret service who was quickly becoming a friend, whilst John’s insides were screaming that Alex still wouldn’t meet his eye.

“Apparently Ang—sorry, Madam Secretary—says the Prez elect noticed you two leaving early.”

John interpreted that to mean half of congress, the Senate, and the cabinet had seen him run out and Alex quickly follow him.

It broke through Alex’s silence and concentration though. Alex turned to Hercules, and calmly said “Tell Eliza, Angelica should tell Washington that I thought he didn’t need me anymore and we wanted to get home before the snow got too bad. Lots of people will be leaving early to avoid getting stuck snowed in with politicians for a night. And Washington knows about my…dislike of storms.” Alex said the last bit bitterly, his hands clenching into fists at his side.

“Eliza’s not your owl.”

“What?” Alex frowned.

Hercules shook his head disappointedly.

“Harry Potter?” John asked. “Hermione Granger?”

“Are you just saying names now?”

Lafayette and Hercules chuckled but John was a little in shock.

“Are you seriously saying you’ve never read Harry Potter?”

Alex shrugged. “I’m the youngest ever Treasury Secretary of the US. I never got the books and didn’t exactly have time to watch children’s movies.”

“They’re more than just for _children_. What’s a childhood without Harry Potter?”

Alex smiled sadly. “I’ll try and find some time for it then.”

“Do,” John nodded seriously. He somehow felt like he’d put his foot in it again. This whole conversation felt like navigating a field of landmines when everything below you looked like daisies. But if he could cross the field then he would reach Alex, and that was somehow worth it.

Alex was still half-smiling but his heart obviously wasn’t in it and John wanted to offer him a hug. There was something suddenly intense and different. Alex was looking directly at him, meeting John’s eyes sadly as if something he’d feared for a while had just been confirmed. “Alex,” John said, deciding to hell with it all. “I need to tell you—”

“No, don’t.”

“But, Alex—”

“ _No_.” Alex stood up suddenly. “I’m going to get some air.” He walked around John and Hercules and the door closed before John had chance to move.

“He’ll freeze out there without a coat,” Lafayette muttered. Hercules nodded and walked to the door.

“No,” John skidded a little, nearly knocking into Hercules in his rush to get in front of the other man. He took Alex’s coat off of Hercules, and tried and failed to casually say, “I’ll take it to him.”

Hercules and Lafayette’s faces let him know just how far off casual he’d sounded. John turned to Hercules quickly. “Will he be OK outside in the storm?”

“Yeah,” Hercules said, a little defensively. “It’s easier when he can see it clearly. Trust him to know what he’s capable of.”

“I do trust him. I just want to know if there’s anything I can do to help if it gets worse again?”

Hercules’ glare mellowed a little. “Nah, kid. It’ll help that you’re there. And if you actually talk to him. Probably explain that you’d like to try dating rather than just faking it? That might work too.”

John froze and Lafayette burst into laughter.

“I would be pretty bad at my job if I couldn’t tell whether or not Ham had been dating someone for the last six months or not. Now go and talk to your fake boyfriend.” Hercules pushed John lightly but meaningfully towards the door.

“ _Now,”_ Lafayette hissed.

John didn’t need to be told twice, he opened the door and followed Alex.

 

* * *

 

The snow has settled remarkably quickly and was now falling in fat languid flakes. John closed the complex's front door carefully behind him so it didn’t bang. Alex didn’t seem to notice him arriving—the man was staring up at the sky with his back to John, intently watching the flakes coming down.

John walked up to him, feeling the freezing snow melting into water through his insubstantial shoes. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he noticed Alex’s were just hanging at his side whilst the man stared transfixed, flinching a little when the snow landed on his face. He walked up to him and stopped beside him, looking up to try and see what Alex saw.

“I’m so sorry about this week, John.” Alex’s voice was so soft, melting into the snow that John wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly.

“This has been one of the most amazing weeks of my life,” John admitted. “Don’t take that away from me by apologizing for a second of it.”

Alex turned to John and his eyes widened.

“I’m serious,” John said. “My life isn’t shit but it hasn’t exactly been a paradise. There haven’t been that many times when it’s felt like it’s working out or going in a direction I would like it to, and there have been some periods where I wish it could not be going at all.”

“Don’t say that,”

“What’s wrong?”

“Don’t say that,” Alex repeated sharply, with some new urgency. “Life can fall apart but you only get this shot at it and you cannot throw it away. You’re amazing John Laurens so stop insinuating otherwise. This has been one of the best weeks off my life too. So how about we both agree it’s been a fantastic week and don’t argue for a second time tonight?”

Instead of answering, John took his hand out of his pocket—a sign of devotion and the honesty of his feelings if ever there was one in this weather—and took Alex’s hand in his.

Alexander Hamilton, America’s notoriously vocal wordsmith looked down at their joined hands in shocked silence.

“But—” Alex furrowed his brow in confusion. A drop of snow landed directly on Alex’s nose and John wanted to reach out and brush it off but didn’t want to let go of Alex's hand. “But I flirted with Eliza.”

“You didn’t mean to.”

“And I didn’t introduce you.”

“You were panicking.”

“And I forced you into lying to a senator and a governor—even if it was fucking Jefferson.”

“I punched a governor once at a garden party. It was my choice then and it was my choice this time.”

“The press is hounding you about getting the job at the White House being just nepotism because of me.”

John shrugged. “If the rumour sticks then I’ll get a different job. Because I _want_ to,” he added quickly, seeing Alex open his mouth to interrupt. “I’m a qualified lawyer. I hated the work I was doing and maybe that’s why Eliza brought it all a bit too close to home for me. I’d love to do the sort of work she is. If the President fires me? Then I’ll have a chat to Eliza Schuyler about job opportunities. I’m free to choose what I do,” he squeezed Alex’s hand. “I’ve known that for a while obviously—since I left New York and told my father the truth. But I guess I never really believed it before.”

“When did you start believing it?” Alex asked, quietly. “And don't you dare say this week.”

“I was actually going to say right now,” he admitted.”

Alex made a noise between a groan and a huff. “I keep making assumptions and believe me, I’m trying here—and not just to fake it well but to actually do something—to not let this fall apart. You keep forgiving me for everything even though I’m not apologizing.”

“We’ve both been wading in too quickly maybe and so we’re both making assumptions. But you haven’t done anything to apologize for, Alex.”

“I told your best friend I’m in love with you in French whilst you were hiding in the kitchen with my bodyguard and best friend because I was too scared to tell you to your face.”

“That one I’ll give you, bit of a fuck up.”

“Well then,” Alex smiled, “I’m sorry.”

“And I forgive you.”

“That was…not as hard to say as I thought it would be.”

John laughed and once he started wasn’t sure that he could stop. It was still snowing around them and he was holding Alex’s hand as Alex smiled up at him.

“What do we do now?” Alex asked.

John thought about every time in his life he had walked away from something he wanted, or held back because someone else might want it more, or worried about what people might think. He decided that there were not enough people anywhere near as brilliant as Alex in the world or any moments quite as perfect as this for him to throw away this shot.

So John leaned in, carefully put his free hand on Alex’s cheek, brought his other hand still holding Alex’s between their chests, and stepped forwards and kissed Alex. Alex gasped a little before pushing back against him. John closed his eyes and felt Alex’s surprise melt away.

He stepped away a second, or a minute, later, unaware of time except to know that it had ended too soon. He breathed deeply as if it were his first breath and found the amazing image of Alex’s wide eyes looking up at him.

“John?” Alex’s voice was a whisper of warm breath against John’s cheek.

“Alex,” John breathed out. He leaned forwards and let his forehead rest against Alex’s. 

“You’re still wearing your slippers."

“Oh, s _hit_. That explains the cold feet."

Alex huffed a laugh, angling his head down so his breath was warm on John’s neck now. “I didn’t know I got bad puns with you as well.”

“All part of the boyfriend deal,” John said.

“Not fake boyfriend?” Alex pulled back a few inches so he could look at him carefully. “Right?”

“Definitely not fake boyfriend.”

Alex pursed his lips and nodded. Then he titled his head backward, leaned up and kissed John again. “I like you a lot,” he admitted.

“I like you too, Alex.” John laughed. “Do you want to come back inside? Now you’ve pointed out the slippers I can’t quite feel my toes. I can’t promise our friends won’t mock us, but it’ll be worth it for the hot chocolate and warmth.”

“And turtle slippers.”

“And turtle slippers.”

Ever since he was old enough to realize what home was supposed to be, John had been searching for it, and finally— _finally_ —felt like he might have found the right place to be.

The cold hurt too much and he was too shocked to smile but he squeezed Alex’s hand one more time and Alex’s smile was wide enough for both of them as he said: “Let’s go,” and led them back inside. John was happy to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This was so cheesy Jefferson could make dinner out of it and all he would need is macaroni)


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They had gotten this far, miraculously and against all odds. President Washington celebrated his hundredth inaugurated day in office today. John and Alex celebrated their hundred and sixth day as an official couple; but that fact was a little lesser known.

Day 100

The sun came up and the world was still spinning. John Laurens woke up to the sight of Alexander Hamilton sat at his desk. His typing was a familiar song by now that pulled John comfortably into the waking world despite the pounding in his head.

“What time is it?” he asked around a yawn.

“Six thirty.”

“Too early,” John concluded. “How is your head not killing you?”

“It’s an important day.”

“A hundred days. You got the bill through on time.”

“I got the bill through on time.”

“I’m proud of you.”

They had made it this far, miraculously and against all odds. President Washington celebrated his hundredth inaugurated day in office today. A little lesser known fact was that John and Alex celebrated their hundred and sixth day as an official couple. Very few people knew the official start date for them as a couple of course, even those in the know dated it to sometime sixth months previous. But a few knew the truth by now: Mulligan, Lafayette, Eliza, and, through pure persistence and perception, Angelica.

It hadn’t been an easy start to a relationship. Early on, John learned that Alex didn’t make many things easy for either of them, and being the President's right hand man wasn’t always easy.

Day 1

John sat beside Alex at the inauguration, a week into their relationship and still beaming whenever anyone addressed Alex as Mr Secretary. John was next to Alex when Washington made one of his hundred day promises be to get a new, fully beneficial debt plan passed through congress. John was there when Alex squeezed John’s hand and his breath hitched. By now, John respected the President and admired the man professionally, but he couldn’t help but want to talk to him about expected workloads.

Later on, Alex reassured John that Washington had of course gotten Alex’s approval before announcing a new financial plan as a National promise, and that Alex must have simply forgotten.

John might not have been around long yet but he knew that Alex didn’t forget things like that. And he knew that Washington knew that Alex would do pretty much anything for him. Of course, Washington was running a country and couldn’t put John’s boyfriend’s—and wasn’t that a lovely thing to say, even in the midst of everything else—needs and sanity before the country. But, he could have given them a little warning.

Day 10

Writing the debt plan was surprisingly easy—Alex had been planning this thing since he was introduced to America’s flawed banking system. Sure, he perhaps pulled a few all-nighters, stayed in his office rather than going back to his apartment—and John’s apartment too, he reminded himself letting his heart swell. Perhaps his hands ached too deeply afterwards and he overdid it on the caffeine, but it was worth it when his team applauded the first draft, and the second, and the third.

No, writing it was easy. It was getting congressional approval that was the bitch.

Day 25

There were parts of Alex's and his relationship that too many people were privy too, in John's opinion. Due to the initial interest, they had had to make a joint statement explaining their relationship and distancing it from their politics. Alex had gritted his teeth through the whole thing, and John had clenching his hands into right fists to avoid punching a wall. Or a journalist. But it had smoothed things over for a while at least.

John suspected twitter would be expecting something from them today of all days, but looking at Alex, jumping up from their bed, still naked, he really didn't want to share any bit of this with the public.

“Happyvalentinesday,” Alex said the three words as one and thrust a key into John’s hand.

“What’s this?” John asked, opening his hand and rolling the cold metal between his fingers.

“A key to our apartment.”

“Our?” John’s breath hitched. Alex simply shrugged, far too nonchalantly, and a blush crept up onto his cheeks. “The apartment we’re standing in right now, with your furniture, and both our clothes all over the bed?”

“I want you to move in. If you want to. Which you don’t have to. Obviously.”

“Well,” John felt his own blush rising this time and _damn it_ why couldn’t he even attempt to play it cool with Alex for once. Truthfully though, that wasn't really an option. Downplaying anything with Alex was a lost cause since that night in the snow when he ruined his slippers for the man now standing in front of him, awkwardly babbling. Those slippers had been his favorites, but Alex bit his bottom lip, and John couldn't even pretend there had ever been any contest. “What if I said I thought I'd already moved in?”

“ _Oh,_ ” Alex looked around the room quickly, taking in the sight of both of their suits for tomorrow hung up side by side in the open wardrobe, John's shoes next to his by the door. “Well, then...I would say that it’s about time you got a key to your own apartment, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” John grinned, “it’s the best present, thank you. And all I got you was seven Harry Potter books and your own pair of turtle slippers..."

“You got me a pair of my own!”

John wanted to protest that he should be more excited about the books but didn't want to curb Alex's enthusiasm. 

Seeing the Secretary of the Treasury literally bouncing around in nothing but fluffy green animal slippers was something John decided was better to keep to himself. Leave the public guessing.

Day 32

“Nope,” Jefferson smirked as he said it and seemed to pop the ‘p’ as if he were a thirteen-year-old.

“You don’t want to vote in a bill that will benefit _the entire_ National and equalize debt, stabilizing our banks?”

“You’re stealing from Southern citizens. I don’t know what y'all do up in New York but in Virginia, stealing’s still a sin."

“Cut the sanctimonious bullshit.”

Jefferson smirked and stepped forwards into Alex’s personal space, reaffirming their height difference. He physically _looked down_ at Alex and said: “Nope.”

Alex forced himself to control his breathing and not hit the third in line to the Presidency. He gritted his teeth and tried again.

“Mr Speaker, if you could see _reason_ —”

“Talk to the whip if you’ve got an issue with my morals,” Jefferson idly checked his nails and flicked a small piece of dirt out from under one of them in Alex’s direction. “You know him well enough.”

“James Madison won’t talk to me,” Alex said through gritted teeth. “He won’t listen to a word I’ve got to say.”

“I thought you preferred it when you weren’t able to talk?”

Alex was about to ask what the hell Jefferson was talking about when he noticed the knowing smirk and suddenly felt sick.

James Madison being friends with Thomas Jefferson was something he had resigned himself to. Madison telling Jefferson about Alex and his’s relationship was something he had not yet accepted.

Alex channeled thoughts of happiness and serenity as he tried to not throw up or punch Jefferson in his smarmy Southern face. He thought of John sketching him last Sunday when he worked from home, of John in his slippers making them pancakes, of John last night, John—

Using all the self-restraint he didn’t know he had, Alex walked away and out of the room, blocking out the sound of Jefferson’s annoyingly pitched laughter.

Fortunately, their meeting had been in the White House proper, so it was simply a quick walk down two corridors and around a corner to find the right office in the President’s staff section and slump into the chair next to the most wonderful man in DC.

“I want to kill the Speaker of the House.”

John calmly finished the email he was composing then swivelled around on his chair and propped his head up on his hands, considering.

“It would move you up a space in the line of succession.”

Alex huffed out a small laugh. “Then we’d only need to deal with a few more, the man himself, Adams—seriously, where the fuck is he today?—Angelica and some old Senator.”

“You love Washington too much to ever pull a Macbeth on his Duncan. I think Adams is running for longest holiday whilst holding office ever—there’s a pool going around, I’ve bet on eight months—so we’d never be able to catch him, _and_ if we have to take out Madam Secretary then I’m backing out of this deal.”

Alex gasped in mock horror and John shrugged turning back to his computer briefly to send the email.

“I’ve just won Angelica to my side, can’t lose her now. What’s Jefferson done that’s so much worse than usual?”

Alex cringed, not entirely sure how to explain. _Gee, John, he sort of brought up some of my old kinks I'd confided in my past boyfriend during an official meeting just to get my riled up and it worked getting me to storm out and set myself back on getting this plan through, so I hate him and myself right now_.

Instead he said: “Madison’s been telling him information about me from when we—” he waved his hand vaguely in the air and John held back a smile before sighing.

“Why did you ever date James Madison? No judgement—” he held up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m genuinely curious.”

“I used to write with him. At college—he wasn’t shit then. But he ran as a Republican and became Jefferson’s crony. And he told Jefferson— _things_ about me.”

“He what—? That's  _horrible._ What did he tell him?”

“Obviously I don’t know everything. But things I don’t want to talk about? Some things you already know, some things I’ll tell you in time just not yet. The sort of things you only find out in a relationship that I wouldn’t want most people let alone Jefferson to know. And Madison never admits it of course, but Jefferson will make comments sometimes, small things, and I’ll realize _shit he knows things about me even John doesn’t_.”

John sucked in a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

“I thought we’d decided to not apologize if we’d done nothing wrong? Not your fault I divulged too much to someone I shouldn’t have trusted. You spent too long at Oxford, John, you’ve become British, apologizing for everything. Next thing I know you’ll be _queuing_ and eating English muffins with tea.”

“They call them crumpets.”

Alex frowned. “I don’t know if it’s more disturbing that you know that or that they call them that.”

“Alex, I want you to know you can tell me whatever you want to and don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, ever.”

“Thank you. But I do want to tell you these things. I’ve told you most things about me already? I’m a bit of an over sharer.”

“Really? I never would’ve guessed.”

“You’ve got the deadpan sarcasm down as well, you’d make a brilliant Brit.”

“I’m also deceptively cruel underneath this nice exterior. If you ever decide you want to make your politics a bit more personal, I can always supply some fuel for rumors. My father used to know the Jeffersons. There were all sorts of rumors about Thomas and one of their underage housekeepers.”

“I knew he was shit, but I didn’t think he was that shit,” Alex said, his eyes widening.

“I know. So do me a favour? Next time Jefferson makes a snide comment about you, just mention crumpets and I’ll know, and then I’ll drop Hemmings into the conversation. There's a legal case being brushed under the carpet somewhere there.”

“Thank you for the offer, but…”

“Probably not the most professional approach?”

“Washington might kill me.”

“Washington would probably let you get away with literal murder with no more than a denouncement that he’s _disappointed in you_.” Alex spluttered and John laughed. “You know it’s true.”

“It is not.”

“It so is.”

“Is _not_.”

“Is too—”

“As mature as this conversation is…”

Both men whipped around at the sound of Aaron Burr’s exasperated voice. He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and John wondered how long he’d been there.

“Go away, Burr.”

“The President and Greene need to see you Laurens, and he would like to remind Mr Secretary that he has a job to be doing. I have no idea why I’m the one delivering this message.”

“Thank you, Mr Senator, sir,” Alex straightened up and brushed down his suit. He put his hand on the top of John’s chair and swiveled it around so he could see John one last time. “I’ll see you tonight. Remember to pass on Lafayette’s love to our Commander in Chief.”

John smiled as he stood up, grabbing the relevant files from his suspiciously organized desk and moving to follow Burr.

“Don’t let him get to you,” he said, barely above a whisper as he breezed past Alex.

Alex took a deep breath and turned around. He should probably see if Jefferson was still here, even if just to insult him for his lack of professionalism.

Day 71

“Shit. I thought if we’d lasted this long it would be OK—No, slow down, I can see that was stupid, alright? Just, give me a minute, Maria.” Alex pulled his phone from his ear, and turned to John looking distressed.

“What’s wrong?” John rushed forwards.

“Turn on the news. Or check twitter.”

“Alex, just explain—”

“You’re trending.”

“What? You mean _you_ ’re trending, or maybe…we are?” but John had pulled it up on his phone and there in the top hashtags was his name. And his father's.

“ _Shit._ ”

“I’ve got to call you back, Maria. Run damage control. We’ll sort something out.” Alex hung up, threw the phone onto their couch and slowly reached out to take John’s phone off of him. John batted his hand away and continued to scroll through.

“My father’s made a statement about me endorsing the opposition and seducing my way into the White House.”

“He didn’t say anything that explicit.” Alex’s voice was calmer than his, which was a rarity John couldn’t appreciate right now whilst he was brimming his rage.

“He didn’t fucking need to. The implication’s all there—that _bastard_.”

“John, I have people who can handle this, as does the President. Your father is an elected Senator, he can’t get away with crude personal attacks and unfounded accusations.”

“I don’t need your _people_ or Washington’s. I can handle this.”

“John—” Alex’s voice sounded less resigned, but more miserable. “Please.”

John groaned then stopped pacing. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped. You’re trying to help. Thanks for letting me know, but this is something I need to handle on my own.”

He took a deep breath, closed twitter, and opened an old entry in his phone contacts, hoping his father’s job would have prevented him from changing his number.

He hit call before he could second guess himself, and walked out of the room to their bedroom before Alex could protest. And so Alex couldn’t hear if he broke down. He knew that Alex would be there afterwards if he needed him.

Miraculously, somehow, John had landed someone who he could trust to actually talk to about the shit storm that was his family. John had Alex. He took a deep breath as the phone continued to ring out. He sat down on their bed—the first joint thing they brought together.

They moved into Alex’s apartment—for convenience first and then officially around the one month mark. They brought the bed together because Alex’s had a spring sticking out of the bottom and no headboard, and John’s was too cumbersome to bring across town.

John leaned back onto the cushions as he heard a click on the other end. He was about to hang up when he heard the familiar curt voice.

“Yes?”

John took a deep breath. He had Alex. Alex was just behind the door, waiting for him.

“Hello father,” he said pleading for his voice not to shake. “It’s John. I’d like to discuss you withdrawing your statement from this morning, or discussing a new joint one we could issue together. I know you don’t want to help me. But this isn’t helping your image or career. Let’s be professional about this.” Professionalism was the only thing he could ask his father for right now that the man might still give. Anything personal had been denied and stopped when he came out.

Henry Laurens valued his career a great deal more than he valued his children.

So it was painful but unsurprising when Henry huffed and said:

“I’m listening.”

Day 98

Somehow, after months of discussion and one particularly tense dinner party with only three invitees which Alex was remarkably closed lip about, the debt plan was passed through congress mainly due to a sudden rush of support from Senator James Madison’s corner.

“He suddenly came to his senses,” Alex told Washington and Angelica when they asked.

“I just talked less,” Alex told Burr when the man pushed for details.

“I think he finally realized that competing for worst ex of the year wasn’t more important than actually helping citizens,” Alex told John when he collapsed against him on their couch at the end of the day. Alex rested his head on John’s lap and grinned up at him. “They’ll announce it tomorrow. Then can we have a party?”

John laughed. It was a ridiculously carefree sound and one that he was growing more used to hearing from himself at random moments when he didn't expect it. Four months ago it had been a depressingly foreign sound.

“I’ll invite Laf, Eliza, and Angelica. You give Herc the night off. I’m sure we can come up with something.”

“I’ll get Mulligan the night off,” Alex agreed, reaching up and entwining his hand with John’s. “I might even give myself a day off too.”

“You need to take a break.”

“Just one day,” Alex warned him, but there was too much of a smile in the words and too much _Alex_ for John to be worried.

“Just one day,” John agreed. “That will be enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...That's it (for now)
> 
> Thank you all so much, you're all the best of readers, and best of people.
> 
> Also the wonderful [ramsay--bolton](http://ramsay--bolton.tumblr.com/) made a graphic for this [here](http://abit-notgood.tumblr.com/post/140534309321/the-stars-fight-against-us-thank-you) because they're infinitely more talented than me

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sure I'm judging myself more than you are.
> 
> I'm [abit-notgood](http://abit-notgood.tumblr.com/) on tumblr if you want to chat/rant ever

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [My life will be fine if you're in it](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6552388) by [Alex_and_Laff_and_John_and_Herc_and_Burr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alex_and_Laff_and_John_and_Herc_and_Burr/pseuds/Alex_and_Laff_and_John_and_Herc_and_Burr)




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